The PlotBunny Dead Zone
by WizardsGirl
Summary: Stories, Chapters, Plots, and Ideas that had an end in mind when I started them, before I got distracted by something  Probably shiny  and the Bunny stepped on a landmine and went Boom. PM to adopt, and take heed of the warnings in the 1st chappy! R&R !
1. The Warning

**The PlotBunny Dead Zone…**

There once was a place,

Where PlotBunnies went,

When they became too wild to hold,

Or their energy was too spent.

Where they could be picked up by others,

Who were not of their own,

And these others could most gladly,

Take these Bunnies home.

For you see, their Creator,

A girl whose mind could sometimes be quick,

Could not always care for them,

And they would sometimes get sick.

So to save all her Bunnies,

From a fate to bad to think upon,

WizardsGirl sent them here,

So that they could continue to live on and on.

But there are times when she'll get a poke,

A nudging from a Muse,

And one of these PlotBunnies may,

Just may, become of use.

And She will not let just anyone,

Take her dear Bunnies home.

For not everyone can care for them,

Or leave well enough alone.

So she gives each Bunny a collar,

Those who can leave and those who may not.

And on each collar is a set of Rules,

One must follow or be shot.

Some rules are different,

Some are big, or small.

All of them are reasonable,

Since these are _Her_ Bunnies, After All!

So if you think you cannot follow,

The Collar Rules to a T,

Then leave the Dead Zone and never return,

Or we'll make you pay the Reaper's Fee.

_The PlotBunny Dead Zone Warning_

_**~WizardsGirl~**_

Okay, so basically, all of these stories, prompts, and challenges can be adopted, if you PM me and agree to stick to the "Collar Rules" will be at the top of each "Chapter". Just to warn you, I may or may not continue on one or more of these stories myself, but if I do, they will be moved out of the PlotBunny Dead Zone, and into the Story Area with my other works, okay? Remember, just PM to adopt, Review if you want to suggest a Bunny to be added or something, and I will add to the pile. I decided I needed to pile my Bunnies together somewhere, because they are cluttering my computer. Have fun reading, but be forewarned that some of the updated works are chapters half-finished, that YOU will finish if you choose to adopt!


	2. The Orchard

**A/N:** I do not own Harry Potter. I own the Plot and all OOCness and OC's in here…and anything that was not in the Harry Potter Series, just to be safe.

**NOTE –**

I have no idea WHERE this was going. I was sitting upstairs, and my aunt was complaining about our crabapple tree, and I wrote this. If you want to adopt, PM me.

**_COLLAR RULES_**

1. Sirius HAS to remain alive no matter what.

2. The Orchard has have something to do with Dark Creatures or Fae, but NOT WEREWOLVES, because I am honestly getting irritated by all the werewolves and vampires and Veela and such, people. Some creativity, _please_.

3. Harry has to be at least _SLIGHTLY_ Dark, or Gray/Neutral.

_**The Orchard**_

PROLOGUE

Harry Potter lay dozing in the bushes under the open window of his relative's house, Number Four Privet Drive. This summer was a hot one, and though he had been banished to the too-sunny yard to do menial tasks meant to humiliate and exhaust him, he was almost grateful. It had been a break, something different from the mind-numbingly dull routine he'd settled into.

He woke up every morning to a pounding headache, a nightmare grasping at him with its oily, putrid claws, and his dead classmate's last moments flashing past his eyes, his name on his lips. Depression had settled heavily on the soon-to-be fifteen-year-old's heart, suffocating and a steadily throbbing ache, like a broken or rotten tooth.

But, even though Voldemort, the most feared Dark Wizard of the century, was literally back from the dead, he had yet to do anything remotely…well, Dark Lordish.

Harry sighed softly, listening idly to the news through the open window, knowing that should he be caught, he would be in for a thrashing… And almost wishing he _would_ get caught, if only so that the dark, lonely thoughts and feeling of abandonment would go away for a while and just _leave him alone_… Vibrant green eyes dull and dark with his depression, hidden slightly behind gawky, round glasses, stared up at the clear blue sky forlornly. Harry lifted a hand and dragged his ebony hair back from his forehead, exposing the raw-looking lightening-bolt scar that had started all his troubles.

The scar he'd gotten when Voldemort had murdered his parents and tried to murder him as well…

The scar that marked him as a Savior to the Wizarding World…

The thing that made him more of a freak then he already was…

And, suddenly, just like that, his depression was gone, replaced by a furious, helpless frustration that had him pushing himself to his feet, his massive cousin's clothes hanging like folds of elephant skin off his near-skeletal body. Fidgeting, frustrated and head aching more fiercely then before, Harry took off at a jog, face lifting into the small, choking breeze that barely wisped by. He made his way to the park, feeling a little less angry, a little less trapped, the farther away from Number Four and Privet Drive he got.

He bypassed his usual swing, ignored the dented monkey bars, avoided the gratified bathrooms, and slipped into what was affectionately known as The Orchard: a large cluster of trees, forty, perhaps fifty in all, with two apple trees at the very edge. While it was well-known by all those who had children or who they themselves frequented the park, that the apple trees were fair game, it was also well-known that bad things often happened to those who went into the Depths of The Orchard.

Harry had always used that in his favor, going as close to the darker, somehow more sinister-looking trees just beyond the cheerful apples when his cousin Dudley and his gang of bullies decided to play Harry Hunting (in which they would chase, attempt to catch, and gleefully pummel the much smaller boy to a bloody, bruised mass). He had never had any problems from the Depths of The Orchard, though he'd known and heard of those who had. Of course, he'd never truly gone _into_ them, either…

Now, as he slid down the trunk of one of the apple trees, facing into those shadowy, ominous places, he thought upon those instances. Winston Julius, a boy who had been bullied by Dudley's gang as well, had fled into the Depths when Harry had been eight. He had been a tall, bird-like, large-bespectacled boy with straw-like hair and squinty blue eyes, freckles, and braces for the rather obvious over-bite he hated. He had run into the Depths… And had emerged five hours later, hollow-eyed, vacant, drooling, and catatonic. He had spoken one word, and one word only, and, if memory served, had yet to speak another while resting in the nearest Asylum.

"Echo," Harry murmured softly, grimacing slightly in pain as his head began to pound harder, heading from a simple headache towards a migraine. He sighed and, green eyes glazing in a far-away look, he thought back to other instances.

Jenny Clip, a thirteen-year-old girl who was more looks then sense, had gone into the Depths when Harry was six, and had returned raped with no memory of the attack. The police had gone in to look for evidence, but one of the four that went in never returned. More policemen had come with hounds, and the dogs had been positively terrified at one moment, delighted the next, but had, as a whole, refused to enter The Orchard past the safe-point.

The Orchard was older then Harry was. It had been there since before his Aunt Petunia was born. He knew, because on one rare occasion when Gryffindor bravery had over-shot his Uncle's early-age training, he had worked up the courage to ask who had planted The Orchard. His aunt had sniffed primly, but it hadn't been enough to hide the small, nervous tremble of her hands as she had continued her knitting.

"It's always been there," She'd snapped at him. "My Grandmother Rose and her brother Eric used to pick the apples from those two trees." Then she'd glared at him, and snapped that he shouldn't ask questions, and should get back to work. He'd been twelve at the time.

He'd gone to the library the following summer, before the Aunt Marge Incident, and had found old newspaper clippings detailing many odd occurrences from as far back as the newspaper began, and some old records from even farther. Disappearances, 'accidents', murders, rapes, and the sudden attacks of catatonic-idiocy that had befallen poor Winston. Superstitions had abound, especially since it was mention that when the Village of Hamfin (which had existed in place of Surrey, England, where Privet Drive now rested, during the fourteen hundreds) had attempted to _burn_ The Orchard, the wind had abruptly changed and sent the deadly flames into the village's crops instead. Many died that winter of starvation, and still, The Orchard remained.

Harry pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them securely, staring blankly into the Depths, chin on his knees. His head hurt fiercely, and his bones ached from sheer tiredness. He was exhausted, from constant nightmares and constant fear and constant pain and CONSTANT VIGILANCE as far as Voldemort was concerned…

He just wanted to rest a bit…

Closing his eyes slowly, he sighed and slid uneasily into familiar nightmares and memories, sitting in the cool shade of the large apple tree, facing the ominous, unfriendly Depths of The Orchard.

He had stared, unseeing, into those Depths before sleeping…

And they stared back, seeing far more then he would have believed, while he slept upon their doorstep.

**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**


	3. The Confident

**A/N:** I don't own Buffy. I DO Own Sofie, and the variations to Kitten Poker. Because I'm just that Awesome. Can adopt but again, I warn you, I may fiddle with this.

**COLLAR RULES**

1. Xander has to be BA.

2. Xander must have the equivalent of MPD (Multiple-Personality Disorder) when it comes to his "Darker Half, Lexi LaVelle.

3. Sofie must be the equivalent of a human, blond Dru, and only have random bouts of sanity, mostly around her father, and be completely sane while playing Poker.

4. Sofie's Dad must be one of those cold, creepy Mobster-types, who is secretly controlling the Hellmouth Underworld, and be considered very scary to even most demons (his reputation _must always_ proceed him.).

5. Angel CANNOT HAVE A SOUL.

6. Buffy, Willow, and Giles Bashing must happen while Xander is Lexi. You can have random conversations or something between Lexi & Xander (Like with his reflection in the mirror or something), but you _must_ make it obvious who-is-who.

7. Lexi must have connections, friends, and enemies in the Demonic community. He would be considered a danger, though, so no vampire gangs or something cliché like that as his main enemy, please.

8. Clem must be considered and written as Lexi & Sofie's Uncle. Pay him in nummiful purebred kittens. For he looks like a Shar-Pei and is adorable.

_THAT IS ALL…_

Though I warn you know, that the chapter isn't totally finished, but I couldn't think of how to continue it, so, yeah…

**The Confident**

Prologue:

The First Meeting

Alexander LaVelle Harris sat on the park swing, swinging boredly. Now, you might be wondering: what is a five-year-old doing alone at the park at midnight in a city where people died almost as often as they were born? Simple. His father had been too drunk to beat him, his mother too drugged, and his uncle too high. All three had agreed on one thing, though: they didn't want him in the house. So, here he was, on the same swing he'd sat on every night since he was three. He'd sneak back in an hour or so, but for now he was content to sit, look at the stars, and nurse his swollen black eye.

Alexander sighed, kicking his red shoes in the dirt under the seat. He was just so _bored_! He'd wanted to go investigate a tomb in the nearest graveyard, but there was a bunch of strange people playing with kittens and cards near it, and he didn't want to get in trouble. Especially considering that one of the people was blue… Suddenly, there were footsteps behind him, and he turned quickly, fearfully.

"Hi," said a little girl. She looked like she was his age, with white-blonde hair, large blue eyes, a heart-shaped face and wearing a blue and white dress. She smiled shyly; Alexander smiled back as she climbed onto the swing next to him.

"Hey," he said; his chocolate eye (the one not swollen closed) was warm and his smile wide. "My name's Alexander, but this girl in Kindergarten, Willow, she calls me Xander 'cause it's easier," he babbled in one breath; the little girl smiled at him.

"My name's Sofie," she told him. "I'm stayin' with my Daddy for the summer." Her voice had a funny twang to it.

"You talk kinda funny," Alexander declared; Sofie blushed.

"I'm from Missouri," she told him. "I gotta ax-cent that makes me sound dif'ent." Alexander had no idea where Missouri was, but he nodded anyways. They swung for a while, when he suddenly frowned.

"Whatchu doin' out here, anyways?" He asked her; Sofie slid to a stop, and he did the same. She bit her lip.

"Daddy get's mad if I'm in the way, 'specially when he's gots his bidness pardners over," she told him, blue eyes large and scared. "He's really mean when he's mad, and he'll hit me. So I try ta come out here and stay outta the way." Alexander reached over and took her hand, lifted it, and laid it on his eye with a small smile.

"Mommy and Daddy and Uncle Rory don't like me in the way neither," he told her. She smiled and pulled her hand away, only to grab his. They sat there, holding hands and rocking slightly. A soft meowing caught their attention though.

"Kitty!" Sofie gasped, jumping off the swing and pulling Alexander with her. "Lexi, there's a kitty!" Alexander scowled.

"My name's not Lexi!" He complained, eagerly following her toward the red plastic tunnel where the meowing was coming from.

"But Alexander's too big," she told him, "And I don't like Xander. It's silly." He scowled at her.

"Lexi's silly too!" he declared; she gave him big blue eyes, face hurt.

"But I like it," she said softly. "I like you too." She sounded so timid that Alexander threw his arms around her in a hug.

"You can call me Lexi," he told her. "Everybody else'll call me Xander. That way we'll always be special buddies, 'kay?" Sofie smiled shyly.

"I'd like that," she told him, hugging him back. "Now, to the kitty!" She cried, and they crawled into the tunnel. Crouched in the middle of the tunnel was a small black kitten, with white paws, a white tail tip, and a white splotch on its chest and muzzle. Its eyes were blue, and it meowed at the two children. Sofie reached out and picked it up under the arms, dragging it over to sit in her lap. Lexi reached over and scratched it behind the ears.

"Do ya think its owner is nearby?" Sofie asked; Lexi pursed his lips.

"I dunno," he said. "There's some guys playing with kitties and cards in the graveyard over that way," he pointed in the graveyards direction, "but I don't like 'em." Sofie looked at him curiously.

"Why?" she asked; he blinked.

"Well, they're big, an' loud, an' one of 'em is _blue_ an' another has a tail, and I jus' don' like 'em!" He looked upset, and Sofie took his hand.

"But," she said simply. "What if it's their kitty? I'd be sad if I lost _my_ kitty." Lexi bit his lip, then nodded.

"Okay," he said; leading the way out of the red tunnel, he stayed beside Sofie as they walked towards the graveyard. Five minutes later, they slipped past headstones quietly, the kitten clutched gently to Sofie's chest. They hid behind a mausoleum, the one Lexi had wanted to investigate before, and peered around the corner.

There, in a small clearing in the moonlight, were four people sitting around a fold-up table, with a small pile of cash and four or five kittens in the middle. They were playing with cards. The one closest to the children was the most human looking one of the group. His friends were composed of a large blue man with one eye, a man who had a long, scaly black tail and a forked tongue that glowed green in the dark and flickered in and out of his mouth like a snake, and a man who had a face that remarkably resembled a bloodhound, saggy and sad with huge, watery red eyes and droopy ears that stuck out awkwardly from the sides of his head. Sofie nudged Lexi, took a deep breath, and walked bravely ahead, towards the card players. Lexi hurriedly followed, wary.

"'Scuze us," Sofie called softly; all the men glanced over at them. They stopped a few feet away; Lexi gulped. The man who had appeared human from behind had a horrible, ugly face, all ridges and angles, with large fangs and bright, gold-colored eyes. Sofie swallowed and held up the kitten. "Is this kitty yours?" She asked meekly. "My mama says I can't keep aminals that ain't belongin' ta me. So me an' Lexi thought that it might be one of y'alls, 'cause you was playing with kitties and cards…" The dog-like man huffed, blinked his watery eyes, and looked down at the basket on the ground.

"One, two three," he muttered, then glanced at the table, "four, five, J'ryl has the gray tabby, so six…" he blinked. "It's mine," he announced. "I came with seven. I always come with seven." The blue man grunted, while the lizard man hissed out a chuckle and muttered something to the blue man. The man with ridges and gold eyes sniffed, grinning.

"I was feeling a little…thirsty," he purred, staring at the children. Lexi stepped protectively in front of Sofie, but she kicked him slightly and walked to the right, circling around, keeping headstones between her and the gold-eyed man. Lexi followed quickly. She kept walking carefully until she was close to the dog-like man, close enough to see how more of his body seemed to be made of firm rolls of pure wrinkles, and then she stepped forward and held up the kitten, smiling warmly.

"Here ya go, mister!" She said with a brilliantly innocent smile. He took the kitten gently and patted her on the head.

"Thanks, kid," he said, turning back to the table. Sofie stood on tiptoes to see over the edge. The gold-eyed man scowled, ridges slipping away to that of a slightly geekish looking man with pockmarks and greasy brown hair. Lexi moved closer, so that he stood next to the girl. He wrapped his arms around her waist and heaved with a grunt. She squeaked, then giggled, craning her neck curiously. Lexi trembled, then dropped her, stumbling back to land on his butt with a soft thump. He scrambled to his feet quickly. The four men went back to playing cards, occasionally looking at the two kids. Sofie crouched next to the dog-man's kitten basket and played with them, giggling. Lexi watched the men warily, standing beside her protectively. Suddenly, the dog-man let out a bark-like laugh, grinning widely.

"Got my luck back!" he crowed, laying down his hand of cards. The other players cursed, and he reached forward to greedily drag the pile towards himself, setting the five newly won kittens down in the basket, much to Sofie's delight. When the next hand of cards was dealt, the dog man held them out to Sofie and Lexi without looking at them. They blinked up at him, confused.

"I want you to blow on them for me," the dog-man said simply. "For luck." Sofie looked at Lexi, who shrugged at her. She frowned; he pursed his lips. She tilted her head, and Lexi blinked twice, rapidly. Then Sofie beamed.

"Okay!" She said, and blew on his cards. Lexi did as well, a sharp little puff, while Sofie had given a long, fast blow. The dog-man smiled and looked at the cards. He glanced down at Sofie, who had three kittens in her lap.

"Why don't you choose one for me, okay, kid?" He said, smirking at the other players. Sofie immediately scooped up a calico cat and held it up. The dog-man took it from her and dropped it on the table, pushing forward a small wad of cash as well.

"One calico and two hundred dollars," he said; the gold-eyed man cursed and folded. The blue man met his bet, and the lizard man raised him a gray and white spotted kitten. The game went on for a few hours, the dog-man winning more often then loosing, and Sofie helping him with kittens. She was sitting in his lap, wearing a newly acquired bowler hat, when the car pulled up. Lexi was also sitting on his lap, a shiny Rolex wrapped around the top half of his left arm, which was the only place it would fit, and a black bowtie worn so the bow was mostly to the left. Sofie was holding the cards for the dog-man, Clem, who was smirking victoriously. She pursed her lips and picked up an orange kitten and set it on the table. Lexi plopped a wad of cash beside the kitten. The two had made their own little system once they'd figured out what cards were worth more, and were actually winning quite a bit.

"One orange kitty and…" Sofie glanced at Lexi.

"Four hun'red," he told her automatically, poking at the money in his lap, checking wads and fiddling with jewelry they'd won. Sofie nodded.

"One orange kitty an' four hun'red dollars." She stared at the other players, blue eyes serious and her sober face adorable. The gold-eyed man, who was a vampire named Fred, threw his cards down and snarled, standing to his feet.

"I quit!" he snarled, face morphing into his ridged 'Grr-face', as Lexi called it. He whirled and stormed away; Sofie blinked after him, then shrugged.

"He didn't have no more kitties anyways," she told Lexi, who nodded solemnly.

"Broke," he agreed; the blue man, J'ryl, placed a pair of small brown kittens on the table with a gold medallion, looking annoyed but in good-humor. Lizard-man, Jiff, set forward a fat black cat and six hundred dollars. Sofie frowned.

"Did he raise?" she asked Clem, who shook his head.

"The black cat isn't worth as much as the orange," he explained. "But it's all he wants to bet in kittens, so he placed more money in to make up the difference. The two brown cats J'ryl set out are worth as much as the orange cat when put together, and the medallion is about four hundred dollars." Sofie nodded and glanced at Lexi. He pursed his lips and held up two fingers questioningly; she shook her head. He held up three and she nodded, setting a pretty white kitten next to the orange. Lexi dropped an expensive ring on the table. It rolled and the white kitten chased it.

Someone slipped quietly into the vampires vacated chair. A man in an expensive suit, with blond hair and blue eyes, a handsome, cold face, and long, narrow fingers looked at them all. Sofie stared at him with wide eyes, and he smiled slightly at her. He radiated danger and power.

"Mind if I join in the next hand?" He asked, voice soothing and smooth, like good brandy. Sofie nodded with a shy smile.

"Okay, Daddy," she said; Lexi peered at him.

"Hi Mister Sofie's Dad!" He said, waving adorably. "I'm Sofie's bestest buddy." He smiled widely; the man nodded. Clem gave him a respectful nod, as did Jiff and J'ryl.

"Mr. Richardson," they murmured respectively; he nodded back. Sofie blinked at J'ryl.

"It's your turn, Mr. J'ryl," she told him; he placed a black cat with gray and white splotches on the table, with a ruby necklace and silver Zippo lighter. Jiff folded silently. Once again, Sofie and Lexi shared a silent conversation, and she showed him the cards. He pursed his lips, then met her eyes. They nodded at the exact same time, lifted their hands, and set their bets on the table. Sofie set down a gray kitten with white toes and tail-tip, and Lexi set another ring and a small wad of cash down. J'ryl stared at them, and they stared back, faces blank and as serious as five-year-olds can make. Sighing, he reluctantly folded his hand. Sofie and Lexi grinned at him, and Sofie set down her cards.

"Two of a kind!" she crowed; the two players exploded into disbelieving cries and curses.

"I had three of a kind!" Jiff hissed; J'ryl scowled.

"I had two of a kind as well," he muttered, scowling as Lexi and Sofie pulled their winnings over. Lexi tested the lighter, and Sofie peered at it curiously, before having Clem put on her new ruby necklace. The dog-like man didn't mind, smiling happily as the seven new kittens were added to his already full basket. Lexi quickly separated the money into piles and rolled it into wads. J'ryl shuffled the deck, and Sofie's dad dealt the cards. Sofie giggled as she scooped up the cards and blew on them without looking. Lexi leaned over and blew as well, and then they had Clem blow on them, which he did. Finally, Sofie looked at the cards, and nodded with a pleased look, showing Lexi. He frowned and moved one of the cards to the left, then grinned at her. Their eyes met, and they silently communicated.

Sofie's dad placed five hundred dollars down as an opening bet. J'ryl set forward a chubby calico kitten and an expensive looking watch, which Lexi stared at wistfully. Jiff set down two bony black and white kittens. Sofie looked down at the kittens and picked up a fluffy yellow-orange cat. She set it on the table and Lexi put the Zippo lighter up. Richardson set forward another five hundred, face never twitching. J'ryl scowled and folded, and Jiff only had one small kitten left, which he plopped on the table. It was gray and ratty looking, fur missing in places. He grimaced and added the last of his money as well. Sofie eyed the bets on the table, then nodded at Lexi. The boy immediately sat a wad of cash down. Richardson didn't hesitate, he placed another two hundred down, and added his diamond cufflinks.

"Ooh," Sofie said, eying the cufflinks. Lexi nodded somberly.

"Shiny," he agreed; Sofie looked at Jiff. He grimaced and reluctantly folded. Instantly, Lexi and Sofie had one of their silent conversations, before the boy set a wad of cash down, and Sofie added the small white kitten from before. Her father pursed his lips, and took an expensive looking pocket watch from his pocket, setting it on the pile. Lexi matched it with the rings from before and a small wad of cash. Richardson and the two children eyed each other for a few moments.

"Straight flush," the older man said, laying his hand down; Sofie slowly smiled, and was soon grinning.

"Royal Flush!" She cried, and Lexi cheered. Richardson stared at her cards, blinking, face shocked. Then he smiled and nodded at his daughter, eyes still as cold and dead as when he arrived, having never changed even a bit. They dragged their winnings in and placed the kittens into Clem's basket. Sofie helped Lexi put the new watch on his right upper arm, and then they started separating out the winnings into three piles.

"Mr. Clem wants the kitties, Lexi," Sofie reminded him, he held up the ratty kitten Jiff had bet.

"But it's ugly!" he whined, eyes huge. "I wanna keep 'im!" They turned huge eyes on Clem, who nodded easily. Lexi beamed and turned to Sofie's dad. "Mr. Richardson, can Sofie keep my kitty at your house?" He asked hopefully. "Daddy'll smoosh his head in and make me watch if I take him home. Please?" Sofie gave her dad huge puppy-dog eyes right beside her friend, and the dangerous-feeling man nodded silently. Beaming, they pushed his cufflinks and watch over to him, and then went back to their piles. Lexi got a good two thousand dollars worth of money and goods, and Sofie had about the same. Clem got most of the money and stuff they didn't want, but he far from minded. When they had stuffed all their winnings into various pockets, Sofie snatched up the kitten and the two five-year-olds followed her dad to his car, where a man in a suit opened their door for them, his tusks gleaming yellow in the moonlight.

"Thank you, Noland," Richardson said coolly; Lexi and Sofie said the same thing, climbing in. Richardson watched them buckle up.

"Can Lexi spend the night, Daddy?" Sofie asked uncertainly. The man nodded silently; Lexi let out a soft sigh of relief. Sofie yawned.

"What's the kitty's name?" She asked suddenly; Lexi frowned.

"He looks like a rat," he said suddenly. Sofie nodded.

"His name is Ratty," she declared; the kitten mreowed, blinking up at them, one of his eyes looking off in a slightly different direction. Sofie smiled over at her friend and took his hands. "Let's be friends forever, Lexi," she said; he smiled back bashfully.

"Forever and ever," he agreed. "The princess and knight!" She giggled brightly.

"The stars as our witness!" They smiled at each other, beaming innocently and holding hands, Ratty crawling to sit between them.

That was eleven years ago.

One:

Under the Mask

Xander Harris gave his patented Goofy-Grin and babbled with Willow as he walked her home. With Angelus, Spike, and Drusilla running around, he didn't trust her to get home by herself. As she hugged him goodbye and closed her door in his face without any obvious thought about how he'd get home safely, Xander sighed in relief and walked away, keeping up his mask as a clumsy geek until he rounded the corner. Then his stumbling shambles abruptly changed into a predatory stalking, head lowering, eyes focused.

He reached up and unbuttoned his horrible yellow and green Hawaiian shirt, sneering in disgust as he tossed it into a trashcan as he passed. Snatching a backpack from the mouth of the next alley, he paused and opened it. Inside, he pulled out a black wife-beater, and pulled it on over muscular shoulders and abs, smirking coolly as it accentuated said muscles. Forcing off his tattered shoes, he shoved down the baggy cargos he had to wear, exposing black jeans that cupped his ass and muscular thighs. He pulled a pair of black steel-toed boots out of the bag, and gracefully pulled them on without sitting down. Tossing the pants and tattered shoes into the trash, he pulled out two more things from his bag. Shrugging on a black denim jacket, he smirked and set his sunglasses on his face.

Slinging the pack over his shoulder, he stalked away, smirk firmly in place as his more natural dangerous air unfolded around him. Cocking his head, he slipped down an alley and slipped into a building. A small, old woman with purple skin and yellow hair sat in a rocking chair, knitting a cap.

"Good evening, Grandmother Turret," he said, voice a soothing drawl. "It's the first night of summer, milady," she peered up at him and smiled, exposing razor-sharp needle-like teeth, a piranha's mouth to be sure.

"Lexi LaVelle," she purred, slipping to her feet. When she was sitting, she looked small, delicate, and weak. When she stood, her seven-and-a-half-foot form radiated strength and pride, as well as something dark and deadly. Lexi, smiling, bowed to her, and she nodded regally back. "How is my favorite customer, hmm?" He grinned up at her.

"Eager and restless, Grandmother." His chocolate eyes gleamed with bloodlust and violent promises. "Xander is dead and buried in our mind for the next three months, his _friends_," he sneered and the woman nodded with a grimace, "will not be speaking with him at all, nor are they likely to see him. Though," he smirked viciously, "it would be fun to torture the Slayer," he mused; Grandmother Turret chuckled and set aside her knitting things, swaying gracefully towards a back room. Lexi remained patiently waiting next to the chair for the next five minutes, holding his empty backpack in his hands. The woman retuned with a box and set it on the small table next to the rocking chair. Lexi peered inside.

A good dozen kittens of different breeds and colors rolled around inside the box, mewling and meowing and hissing at each other. Pursing his lips, the sixteen-year-old reached in and grabbed two orange kittens, one black kitten, three white kittens, a gray kitten, two calicos, and a gray and black striped one. Nodding, he placed each one into his bag, then pulled a necklace made of shiny, black stones out of the pocket in the front and handed it to the she-demon, who purred and clutched it covetously to her chest. Lexi smiled at her with deadly charm.

"Business with you is always so… satisfying," he purred huskily; the she-demon sighed and slipped into her chair, seeming to immediately shrink and loose power. Lexi wasn't fooled, though, and took her seemingly tiny hand into his own and kissing her knuckles reverently; Grandmother Turret smiled and let out a soft giggle.

"I miss your company, dear Lexi," she told him; he smiled.

"As I yours, milady, as I yours." He bowed to her one last time, and slipped out of the door and back into the alley. Shifting his wriggling pack onto his shoulder, he stalked away without looking back. Humming, he made his way back towards his next destination without pause. He passed a few fledglings on the way, but a steely stare had them all thinking that easier prey could be found. Smiling slyly, he slipped into Willy's.

"Oh, Wi-i-i-lly," he sing-songed as he stalked slowly toward the bar. The demon paled drastically as he took in the boy's shark-like smile and dangerous aura. "Do you know what night it is, my dickless friend?" he purred, leaning over the bar. "It's the first night of summer," he crooned darkly, eyes glittering malevolently. If possible, the demon paled even more.

"L-Lexi L-LaV-Velle?" he stuttered; Lexi chuckled darkly.

"In the flesh," he purred, plucking the bottle of demon whiskey from his hand. Opening it, he took a swallow, and sighed blissfully as it burned all the way down.

"I-I've got y-your money, sir!" The demon stuttered, backing away. "I-I'll j-just go and g-get it, shall I?" Lexi gave him a darkly amused look.

"Fetch," he ordered; the demon all but ran from the room into a back room. Chuckling, the teen sat on a barstool, swigging occasionally from the bottle of whiskey.

"Well, well, well," came an Irish-accented voice, dark and smooth, right behind him. "If it isn't Harris." Lexi tilted his head slightly, amusement playing across his face as he peered up at the dark-haired, now-soulless vampire. Angelus smirked cruelly down at him.

"Not for the next three months," Lexi drawled, not looking at Willy when he set a large wad of cash in front of him. "You're short two hundred and fifteen dollars, my dickless friend," he said, turning his head back to stare at the demon over his sunglasses.

"I-I don't kn-know what you're t-talking about, Mr. LaVelle," he stuttered, eyes darting around; Lexi sighed, and his hand lashed forward, grabbed Willy's head, and slammed it into the countertop harshly.

"You owed me seven thousand, five hundred and sixty-two dollars. There is only seven thousand, three hundred and forty-seven dollars here. I don't need to count," he said coldly, face hard and eyes dark with intent. "I _know_ Willy. I had _thought_ you'd learned your lesson from _last_ summer." Willy shook, and Lexi sneered. "I am not Xander Harris, Willy. I am not some white-hat Scooby. I am the blackness on his lily-white soul, the blood on his hands, the nightmares and nasty thoughts of his mind, given life and personality as according to our own agreement. Need I once again break your arms and legs to remind you not to fuck with me, my dickless friend? Hmm?" His eyes filled with death, Lexi stared at the demon, who shivered.

"I-I-I" Willy cowered, blood dripping sluggishly from his broken nose, "I'll just go get i-it f-for you, Mr. LaVelle," he managed meekly; Lexi smiled coldly.

"And another of these," he said, holding up the bottle. Willy nodded quickly, fearfully. "Good boy," Lexi praised, dropping him the three or four inches he'd been held off the floor. Willy disappeared into the back. Smiling easily, he turned around and leaned against the bar, looking up at Angelus over his sunglasses.

"Lexi LaVelle," he purred, offering his hand. The vampire tilted his head. "The other half of Xander Harris. I get the body over the summer," he said as the Vampire took his hand and they shook, "and he gets to be the Slayer's pet bitch every other day of the year." Angelus smirked and sat on the stool next to the boy. Willy came back with the money and another bottle of whiskey. Lexi held out his hand without looking at him, eyes drifting lazily around the bar. Demons who caught his eyes nodded respectively and lowered said eyes. Angelus noticed this, and found himself eying the human curiously. Smirking, Lexi handed him the unopened bottle.

"To blood soaked hands and screaming blondes," the teen purred, tapping the bottles together. Angelus chuckled and took a drink, humming appreciatively at the burn. He watched the boy for a few seconds, then shook his head, chuckling.

"You look exactly like a male version of my Dru," he said idly; Lexi smirked.

"And my Pale Princess looks exactly like a female version of your Spike," he said easily, "and acts like your Dru." As he said it, he stood and turned, picking up the money Willy had left him, and neatly rolling it into smaller rolls, slipping them into the zippers in the front of his bag. As he did, several meows were heard, and he smirked at Angelus.

"Poker is so much funner the demon way then the human," he told the vampire, slinging the bag over his shoulder and snatching up his now mostly-empty bottle. "Ta, luv," he said, saluting the dark vampire, and stalking gracefully out the door. Angelus watched the teen's ass as he left, taking a deep drought from the bottle, thoughts rolling through his mind.

Lexi stalked towards the cemetery where that night's poker game was being held. Already, five demons crowded around the sturdy table, already playing a few rounds. Smirking, Lexi slid into the last chair and nodded at them all with a cruel smirk.

"Don't mind me, gent's," he drawled, slipping a hand into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. "I'm waitin' on my partner a'fore I play." He smiled coolly, putting the pack away once he'd pulled out his cigarette, and easily affecting a convincing Cockney accent. Watching the three demons and two vampires play, he pulled his Zippo from his pocket, flipping it open and lighting it with familiar ease. It was the same lighter he'd gotten the first time he and Sofie had played Demon Poker. Slowly, he sucked in a deep breath, eyes closing blissfully as the nicotine hit his system. Summertime was the only time he ever got to smoke.

"What the bloody hell?" A familiar Cockney-accented voice blurted, followed with insane giggles. Lexi rolled his head back languidly, blowing a ring of smoke towards the blond vampire and his insane sire, who was swaying slightly and staring at him with a sly/insane smile on her lips.

"'Lo. Spike, Drusilla," he drawled, letting the rest of the smoke from his lungs. "Ya here ta play with us?" Before Spike could answer, Drusilla giggled, and was joined by a tinkling, musical cackle. Lexi rose to his feet and smiled softly, walking forwards as everyone looked over. There, spinning on one foot on a gravestone, stood a gorgeous Sofie, her blue eyes bright and slightly insane, her ice-blind hair reaching mid-back, and her blue dress lending her slim figure form and curves.

"Lexi, Lexi, my lovely Dark Knight," She sing-songed, lunging toward him; he caught her with a familiar ease, turning in a circle as she laid soft butterfly-kisses all over his face.

"Sofie, Sofie, my beautiful Pale Princess," he sang back. "What would you have of me, milady? I am yours once more, for a summer again." Sofie giggled and hung limply in his arms as he gently set her on her feet, cradling her frail-feeling form close with tenderness.

"The stars sing of blood and sex and love and hate," she told him; Drusilla swayed over and giggled.

"Puppets and cut strings," she announced as Spike hurriedly followed her, blue eyes bright with wariness and curiosity.

"Puppy dog tails, and slimy entrails!" Sofie chirruped; the insane duo giggled and fell together, snuggling close. Lexi found himself standing next to Spike, cigarette hanging comfortably from his lips. Absently, he offered his lighter when the blond lifted his own cigarette.

"Ta, luv," he muttered, and Lexi shrugged, sliding the Zippo back into his pocket as the two insane women spun in a circle.

"Ring around the rosies," they sang, "A pocket full of posies! Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!" They flopped down, giggling like children, and Lexi slid forward to gently help Sofie to her feet, Spike doing the exact same for Dru.

"Pretty Pale Princess," Lexi said gently. "We've got cards to play with and prizes to win." Her entire face lit up and she grinned.

"Why didn't y'all say so?" she demanded, some of the insanity giving way to her eager, card-playing addiction. Her twang returned full-force. "I only ever get ta play when it's summertime, Lexi!" She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the game, pushing him into the chair and plopping into his lap, opening his pack and peering at the kittens, humming in appreciation. "Very nice, Lexi. Grandmother Turret knows how ta grow 'em _just _right, so they don't go tryin' ta crawl away an' get lost." She smiled and gave a curious white kitten a kiss on the head when she sniffed at the girl. Mewling, she disappeared back into the bag. Lexi hummed.

"That's what we pay her for, deary," he said, blowing another smoke ring as he smirked, amused.


	4. Hell and Heaven

Hell and Heaven

**A/N**: Okay, Usual I own nothing. Up for adoption, though I may work on it. If only a chapter, or something.

…Thought you ought to know!

**COLLAR RULES~!**

1. Harry **HAS TO BE** paired with Al. Therefore, this has to be Slash. Sorry, you can borrow the idea if you give me credit, though, and right your Het version if you want, but to kidnap my story you gotta wear the collar.

2. There is no such thing as Hogwarts. Everyone who would have gone there is either a witch (yes, even the males) if they're strong enough, or a Warlock if they're _not_ strong enough, or a Cookie (normal human) or not in this.

3. Harry has to be able to jump lines _naturally_. Any explanation you come up with is fine. Go with it.

4. BE SERIOUS ABOUT THIS! There are _Literally_ no HP/the Hollows – Kim Harrison Crossovers out there. I started this (and a few others that aren't even full chapters and so probably won't even be posted unless someone requests I post them) in the hopes of posting the first one, but my Bunny died or something, and I have NO IDEA where this would have gone. So, take care of it, please.

**Hell and Heaven**

(1.)

Harry ducked his head, dodging the rock that his cousin threw at him. Running full out, he ducked down alleys and through yards. If he ran harder, he knew, he'd reach the Hollows in ten minutes. His cousin, Cookie that he was, wouldn't go anywhere near him after that. His chest burned, his side had a stitch, but he'd suffer far worse if his cousin caught him, and then even more when said cousin took him home to his uncle. Lips thin with determination, the thirteen-year-old jumped over five-foot-high stone fence and threw himself into a ley line. Running through it, he threw himself out, seven lawns away from where he'd entered. Dodging past a growling dog, he jumped over another fence and hurried to the sidewalk.

Running down this street, he cursed when the sound of a revving engine caught his ears. He'd recognized his uncle's caddy anywhere, having washed and worked on the damn thing every day since his uncle had gotten the dark red monster three years ago. Without looking back, the small boy turned sharply down a street, running even faster now, keeping just outside of the grass of several lawns. If his uncle wanted him dead, he decided grimly, then he'd have to fuck up his precious car and owe dozens of people money as well. It wasn't exactly an unobtrusive car, you know. Throwing himself down a narrow alley, Harry ran down it, knowing it was a dead end. Reaching the end, Harry threw himself into the ley line that lay at the end; passing two rather startled looking demons.

Coming out the other side of the line, he rolled to his feet and kept running. Leaping a fence, he skidded to a stop when he almost fell in front of the very car he was trying to avoid, speeding down the street. Cursing, he threw himself forward, just behind the car, rolled and ran the rest of the way across the street. Wheezing heavily, he continued to run. His uncle would follow him into the Hollows as long as he didn't have to leave his car. Or if he was mad enough. Swerving down another road, he almost didn't notice the large church at the end of the street.

He knew he would have been cursing if he hadn't been so busy trying to breathe. The explosion of a gun being fired erupted behind him, and he yelped as something hot and vicious slammed into his upper left arm, making him stumble but not fall, almost corkscrewing as he continued to run. His eyes widened in disbelief. His uncle was _shooting_ at him?

"Ungrateful bag of worthless flesh!" Harry gasped, throwing himself up onto the wall surrounding the churches backyard. Heaving himself up, he nearly lost his grip when another bullet slammed into him, this time his leg, and the wall next to his face fragmented and peppered his cheek with licks of agony. Hissing, he managed to pull himself up and fall over the other side of the fence as two more bullets slammed into where he'd been. He fell hard on a headstone, choking as the air was forced from his lungs.

Rolling over, he gasped hoarsely for breath, shuddering. He wondered who's grave he was lying on, and rolled off it. He didn't like disrespecting the dead. It was bad karma. Groaning, he forced himself into a sitting position and looked at his arm and leg. Grimacing, he ripped off a long strip of his too-big shirt. Tying it around his leg tightly, he ripped off another strip and tied it around his arm. Using his teeth to pull it tight, he froze as the clatter of wings caught his attention. Jerking his head up, he froze as a large clan of pixies fluttered around, swords out and slingshots ready. Wincing, he lifted his hands, both covered in his own blood.

"I was just leaving," he managed, and then flinched when his uncles shouting and the sound of slamming doors could be heard on the other side of the wall.

"Boy!" His uncle bellowed, and Harry flinched again at the sound of a gun cocking. Harry ducked his head, ripping off another strip of shirt and wrapped it around his leg another time. He glanced at the wall warily and forced himself to his feet, leaning against it when his leg tried to give under his meager weight.

"I'm sorry," he murmured to the pixies, then focused his eyes on the ley line he could feel. Using the wall as support, he started to make his way to it slowly, growing paler with pain and blood loss as his meager bandages merely slowed the bleeding instead of stopping it. He almost made it before he fell, leaning against the wall, pale, sweating, and gasping for air. The pixies said something to him, but he didn't hear, mind going gray with pain.

His uncle shouted again, and then there were sirens. Harry shivered, feeling unbelievably cold for some reason. Small pixies landed on his legs; some flew off to the church or over the wall. There was shouting, and Harry managed to stay conscious enough to wave at the FIB Agents who found him, lead by a large, adult pixy, most likely the leader.

"Hello," he managed with a weak smile. "Interesting day isn't it?" Then soothing blackness swallowed him and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

(2.)

He woke up in the hospital. Grimacing as his head pounded, the teen forced himself to sit up. His hand flopped around on either side of the bed, trying to find his glasses. And failing.

"Hey Rache!" A voice cried; Harry froze, eyes darting around blindly. "The kid's awake!" Harry slowly reached out on the table once more. "Here, kid," the voice, male and a little high-pitched, came from a little ways in front of him. There was a clatter of wings, and Harry flinched as something was dropped in his lap. Reaching for it, his fingertips danced along the familiar edges of his glasses.

"Thank you," Harry said simply, putting them on. He blinked, and peered around him, grimacing. "I hate hospitals," he muttered, then looked down when the large pixy from before landed on his good leg. He was blond, dressed in black, and had a red bandanna on his head. His hands rested on his hips, and Harry couldn't help but compare him to a four-inch-tall Peter Pan.

"Nice to see you awake, kid," the pixy said; Harry blinked at him, tilting his head to the side consideringly.

"Was that you're garden and graveyard that I fell into?" He asked curiously; the pixies wings glowed gold with pride.

"Yes, it was. My kids held the fort, since I was inside with my partners," he said cheerfully. "My names Jenks." Harry frowned, confused.

"I'm Harry," he replied. "Partners?" He asked; a voice answered from the door.

"That would be us," a silky voice purred; Harry looked up, blinking. Two women stood in the doorway. The one who had spoken was gorgeous, with a models body, thick black hair, pale skin, an oval face that had a slightly Asian tint to it, with a small nose and a heart-shaped pair of lips. She was watching him with slightly narrowed brown eyes; and Harry knew that if he hadn't been gay, he would have probably been a blushing mess. As it was, he could admire her beauty and grace from afar.

The other woman was taller, with frizzy red hair, a narrow face, pale skin, and caramel eyes. She was wearing black jeans and a red halter-top, and Harry thought that she might have had freckles once, with her complexion, but he didn't sense any glammer charms, or any complexion spells. Actually, what he _did_ sense was a rather large amount of smut on her aura, as well as the fact that the other woman was a living vampire. He blinked. Just what kind of garden had he fallen into?

"Hello," he said warily; the red head gave him a smile.

"Hey," she said easily. "I'm Rachel, and this is Ivy. You've met Jenks, already, so he doesn't need an introduction," she babbled. She seemed kind of nervous about something, and Harry cocked his head, eying her.

"Harry Potter," he replied, then glanced around. "I apologize for bringing this all to your backyard, by the way." He told them, carefully tossing off the blanket, examining his bandaged thigh, then lifting his arm to peer at the bandage there. Nodding, he heaved his body until he was sitting, legs off the bed. Carefully, he put weight on his good leg, and as little as possible on his bad.

"Hey," Rachel said, frowning worriedly. "You shouldn't be out of bed. You got shot! Twice!" Harry stood carefully, swaying slightly, and gave her a calm look.

"By my uncle, yes, I know," he said, then sighed. "If I can work, I can leave. Now, I really hate hospitals, so leaving is a dandy idea to me," he told them, grunting as he took a few steps, grimacing.

"You needed surgery!" Rachel said, shocked. "They had to surgically remove the bullet from your leg, and your arm! You've got a couple hundred stitches, kid!" Harry sighed, and gave her a droll look.

"I've gone to school with worse," he said bluntly. "Now, if you'll excuse me," he said, shuffling towards them, IV stand in hand. "I am going to locate my doctor, and see if I can get out of here." Ivy shifted, eyes narrowing at him.

"You're a minor," she said calmly. "You can't sign yourself out." Harry scowled.

"Then I'll find my aunt and she'll do it. After all," he muttered with a scowl, "Wouldn't want to clean and cook _herself_, now, would she?" Ivy continued to stare at him.

"Your aunt, uncle, and cousin are in police custody," she said coolly; Harry paused, blinking. "You can't sign out," the living vampire added; Harry scowled, and tilted his head, sending out feelers. Rachel shivered, staring at him. Jenks sniffed, catching the telltale redwood sent

"You're a witch!" he exclaimed; Harry spared him an annoyed glance, and continued searching. He cursed.

"Damn ley line's three blocks away," he grumbled, looking around again as his magic returned. "What time is it?" He asked, turning to focus on Ivy and Rachel. The red head glanced at her wrist, startled.

"Um, six-twenty something," she said, shaking her head and frowning at him. Harry felt his lips twitching slightly.

"Is it sundown?" he asked; Ivy answered.

"In an hour and change," she said, wary. Harry nodded, smiling to himself.

"Excellent," he murmured, then shuffled towards the two women.

"How in Tink's Panties did I not smell you?" Jenks demanded, flying in front of him; the thirteen-year-old blinked at him.

"Scent charm," he told the pixy simply, blinking at him, bewildered. "It's made to block my scent unless I'm working magic. My aunt and uncle didn't want anyone sniffing me out," he frowned as he said it, eying the pixy, then the two women.

"This changes things," Ivy said; Rachel gave her a hopeful look.

"Does this mean…?" She trailed off hopefully; Ivy grimaced, then sighed, long-suffering.

"Alright," the living vampire said, grimacing; Rachel whooped and did a weird little happy dance. Harry gave her a bizarre look. "I'll go deal with it," Ivy said, turning and leaving. Harry blinked at the two remaining people in the room.

"What's going on?" he asked, bewildered. Rachel smiled at him, but Jenks beat her to the punch.

"The FIB's thought you were human," he said, "and since you don't have any living relatives but the ones in custody, and the fat lards sister refused to take you, they were going to put you in an orphanage," the pixy told him; Harry wrinkled his nose.

"I wouldn't have stayed," he said; the pixy shrugged. Rachel spoke up,

"Since you're actually a witch," she said eagerly, "and you were in our yard, then we can put in a bid to adopt you!" Harry gave her a confused look, blinking large green eyes at her.

"Why?" he asked; confused; she frowned, confused.

"Why what?" she asked. Harry frowned.

"Why would you want to adopt me?" he asked simply; Rachel and Jenks stared at him. "What?" He snapped, scowling.

"Why do you think we _wouldn't_ want to adopt you?" Rachel asked him, frowning; Harry gave her a frustrated look but stayed silent. Before she could say more, a doctor bustled in. Harry's reaction was instantaneous. He cringed back, scuttling to the corner of the room, eyes blank with terror and focused on the doctor, pressed as far back into the corner as he could get. He trembled there as the doctor froze, staring at him, startled. Rachel moved worried, and Jenks fluttered his wings, distressed. Ivy came in, followed by an FIB agent. Instantly, she went unearthly still, pupils taking up the brown of her eyes.

"What," she drawled out, head dipping forward and down a bit in a predatory manner, her eyes focused on the cowering Harry, "is going on?"

"I don't know," Rachel said simply, cautiously making her way towards Harry. "Doctor came in and he totally freaked out." Shifting, she blocked the boy's view of the white-coated man, and made sure he couldn't see him around her.

"Easy kiddo," she murmured, gently setting her hand on his shoulder, moving slowly and always in his sight. Even so, he flinched slightly, but focused his unbelievably green eyes on her and started taking deep, slow breaths.

"I don't like doctors," he managed after a few moments of steady breathing, and closed his eyes tightly, slouching against the wall.

"Obviously," Jenks drawled; Harry opened his eyes to slits and bared his teeth at the pixy half-heartedly. Jenks snickered. "Kitten," he teased; Harry growled, but otherwise didn't do anything.


	5. Twists and Turns

**A/N**: I don't own HP or Anita Blake. If I did… (Nosebleed) Heheheheheheheh…

**COLLAR RULES**

1. Harry is a Necromancer. He never went to Hogwarts, so his Magic, being connected to Death as it was thanks to the soul piece in his head and the AK curse at infancy, turned to Necromancy as a form of release in order to get rid of pent-up power without getting any damage dealt to Harry.

2. You Have To Pair Harry With Olaf. Therefore, Slashiness must ensue.

3. Olaf must continue to be a sociopathic serial killer. He'll just like Harry best, and Harry's magic will make him masochistic when it comes to Olaf, and _**ONLY**_ when it comes to Olaf.

4. Richard Bashing. At least, **Minor **Richard Bashing...

5. Voldemort has to not want to kill Harry, come up with your reason, whether its because hes a soul container, a Necromancer, holding Olaf's leash, not a threat, an adorable kitten of doom, WHATEVER, just no conflict betwixt them, understand? Good.

**Twists and Turns**

**Prologue**

When life takes a turn for the worse, there's usually some kind of sign beforehand. A series of good things happening to you is one of them. Another is a series of bad things happening, that grow steadily worse until the worst thing happens.

Guess which option my life had?

I've spent my entire life, one bad thing running into another, starting as soon as I was one, actually. And every time, when I can swear the Pearly Gates are calling my name, I _somehow_ manage to pull off some impossible stunt that lets me get out alive. Sometimes my friends make it too.

Sometimes they don't.

Let me show you what I mean.

Before I was born, a Prophesy was told that a baby born 'As the Seventh Month Dies' would come along and defeat the Dark Lord, Voldemort. Well, he caught wind of it, and came after my family. We ran away, of course. After I was one year old, a dear friend of my Mum and Dad betrayed them, and Voldemort found us. He killed my Dad, then cornered my Mum and killed her in front of me. He tried to kill me, but something protected me, and destroyed his body. His soul, unfortunately, escaped. I, of course, had absolutely no knowledge of any of this.

After that, I was forced to live with my mother's sister, Petunia, and her oh-so-_loving_ husband, Vernon Dursley. I was forced to live in the cupboard under the stairs, starved and beaten, forced to be a perfect slave. When strange people came when I turned eleven, Uncle Vernon moved us all to America. I was once more the lone wolf of the classes, since Dudley, my cousin, scared everyone away. We were both made fun of at first, but everyone soon learned that the boxing lessons Uncle Vernon paid for went to good work with Dudley. I, unfortunately, did not have such lessons. My lessons were all learned first-hand. How to run fast without truly exerting myself, when to dodge a hit, when to take one. My mind calculated all the risks and escape routes automatically.

When I was twelve, I started having strange dreams, about a red headed girl, a giant snake, and a handsome teen with red eyes. I blamed it on upcoming puberty. When I was fifteen, I started getting headaches, which made weird things happen.

Weird things like bringing the neighbors dead dog back as a zombie. _That_ had earned me a beating so bad that I nearly died, and then starved me so long that I almost died again. I hadn't _meant_ to make the dog come back! It had just… happened. It happened a few more times, with dead squirrels and birds, but I managed to send them away before my aunt or uncle saw anything.

That probably should have been a sign. I mean, a now sixteen-year-old bringing the dead to life? Talk about scary, or, well, garden variety scary. When you face death more then any child should, you tend to find different things scary then the other kids your age. Like, I was deathly afraid of doctors, because I thought they'd find this freakishness in me, and try to experiment on me. More then one nightmare before the headaches had been about my relatives selling me to the government for torture. They thankfully didn't know this.

I think the real turning point, though, was when the neighbors were ripped to shreds. Yeah, that's when things started getting _really_ weird…

**One**

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon hissed, meaty fist all but crushing my upper arm as we stood in the front yard, watching policemen going in and out of the neighbors house. Going in all serious and grim… and coming out vomiting. "Did you have something to do with this?" Terrified, I shook my head, flinching slightly as I felt and heard my upper arm fracture. "You'd better not…" he growled, then straightened when a large black policeman walked over, grim faced and severe looking. I immediately looked at my shoes. Tall people intimidated me, since I'm only five-foot-two.

"Excuse me," the officer said, voice deep and rumbly. "Mr. Dursley?" Uncle Vernon nodded, shifting his grip to my shoulder. I gave a silent sigh of relief as half of the pain slipped away. "I would like to ask you a few questions," Uncle Vernon nodded and moved a little ways away. I shuffled away, slipping into the shadows, to rub at my fractured arm and watch the police work. A car pulled up, a black SUV with tinted windows, and three people piled out, two men, one woman. The driver was a blond haired man with blue eyes. He was handsome, and I watched his emotionless face slip into a politely cheerful but grim mask.

The woman felt familiar to me, yet different. I frowned, and slammed my self-made barriers into place before they could try and 'taste' the woman. She was petite, with black hair, a pretty face, nearly-black brown eyes, and a dangerous feel to her. She was frowning and looking around. I didn't move, head bowed and chin-length black hair hiding my moon-pale face. My bright green eyes turned on the last man, and I barely kept from openly gaping.

The guy was huge! _At least_ seven feet tall, with broad shoulders, a barrel chest, large muscular arms and big hands. His head was totally bald, and his eyes were sunk in deeply, a black that seemed endless. I shivered; he made the power inside me writhe curiously, and my scar tingle pleasantly, for some reason. I decided that I'd have to stay away from him…

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted; I immediately hurried toward him, head down as the three glanced over instinctively. Vernon cuffed me harshly upside the head, making me stumble slightly, but I didn't hesitate to rush inside. The woman's eyes, as well as the big mans, dug vicious holes in the back of my head before the door closed, and I shivered as the feeling lingered.

As we settled back into our normal routines, I found myself working in the garden, relaxing, listening as my aunt, uncle, and cousin got in the car, heading off to lunch to get away from the house. Humming, I blinked as a shadow fell over me. Slowly, I looked up, blinking. A man wearing a dirty brown suit stood over me, face a sickly gray, blue eyes blank of all life. I grimaced as the telltale smell of rotting rolled over my nose and sighed. Great. If animal zombies _nearly_ got me killed, what would Uncle Vernon's reaction to a _human_ zombie be?"

"Where on earth did you come from?" I asked, standing. The zombie just stared at me, swaying slightly. I dragged my fingers through my hair and sighed. I knew for a fact several police officers were still across the street, so I gave the zombie a stern look. "You sit down and stay right here, understand?" I demanded; the zombie slowly sat down, and I patted his dirty brown hair, grimacing as a maggot crawled onto my hand. I tossed it in the garden and trotted away, moving through the side gate. The woman from before was glaring up at the very big man, arguing, and I found myself moving straight towards them.

"Excuse me," I said, before she could say whatever it was she was opening her mouth to. She whirled, glowering; I winced. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt," I said, pouring on a bit of the British charm we're supposedly famous for. "But there's a zombie in my garden and I was wondering if someone could help me move him?" She blinked, face going blank.

"A zombie?" She asked slowly, looking up at the noonday sun. I nodded eagerly.

"Startled me a bit," I admitted with a sheepish smile. "Usually only get animals in and out, never a zombie, though," I nodded to myself. "Neighbors dog wandered over once, and that didn't turn out too well," I muttered, lips pursed as I unconsciously began to shuffle back to the house, not unlike a zombie myself. Something in me tingled and I looked up in time to see the zombie shuffling towards me, blank faced.

"Oi!" I exclaimed, hands on my hips scoldingly. "I thought I told you to stay! Bad zombie, bad! No squirrel for you!" I scolded, hurrying over to fuss with him, taking his hand (with its two near-skeletal fingers… Ew) and leading him over to the porch. "Now sit here and stay! I mean it, mister!" I glared down at it as the zombie once more sat obediently.

"Kid," the woman said from behind me, making me jump and whirl, cringing instinctively, eyes wide. She had a gun out, pointed at the zombie. "Where did he come from?" she demanded. "Step away from him slowly." Eyes narrowing, I carefully crossed my arms and stepped fully in front of the zombie. Damn it, he was _my_ zombie! I glared at her, green eyes flashing.

"If I bloody well knew where the bloke had come from, I'd have returned him by now, Miss!" I snapped, irritated. The zombie tugged on my shirt and I turned. "No worries, luv," I said soothingly, dragging my free hand through his hair. "We'll get you back in you grave before tea-time, all right?" The zombie released my shirt and leaned against my hand, making a slightly hungry snuffling sound. I smiled at him, and patted his head. "And maybe a squirrel…" I pursed my lips and glanced towards the tree in our front yard. "I think there might be one or two in the tree…" The zombie stood silently and shuffled to the tree, and stood under it, staring up into the branches. I sighed and rubbed my temples.

"Zombies," I said wearily. "Like overgrown, cannibalistic children, I swear…" Muttering to myself, I kept an eye on the zombie, as he continued to just wait for the squirrel to apparently come to him. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed.

"What's your name, kid?" The woman demanded; I gave her a narrow look.

"Harry Potter, nephew of Petunia Dursley on my Mum's side," I greeted, jerking a thumb over my shoulder at the house. "They've all gone out to lunch while I finished up some of my chores. And you would be…?" I waited patiently.

"Federal Marshal Anita Blake," she said stiffly; the large man from before spoke up in a deep, almost echoing voice from behind her, making me jump in surprise as my power rolled through me at the sound of it.

"Otto," he said, watching me intensely. I swallowed and nodded, trying vainly to keep the power back. Some must have escaped, because the woman, Anita, gave me a sharp, startled look, and her dark eyes narrowed.

"So, Harry," she said carefully, dangerously. "How long have you been raising the dead?" I hesitated, then ducked my head.

"I don't do it on purpose," I finally said, pressing my fingertips together nervously. "It just kind of happens, sometimes…" I glanced up through my bangs and quickly away, feeling trapped.

"How long?" she demanded again, I flinched back and scrunched in on myself, shoulders hunching.

"Two years," I said. "Never a human before. Neighbors dog, some squirrels and dead birds. Never a human," it came out more a whimper then I wanted it too, and my hands shook obviously.

"Easy kid, easy," she said, voice trying to sooth. I couldn't help it, I was panicking slightly, feeling trapped. My self-made barriers fell, and my power pooled out around me, rolling through the air. The scar on my forehead flared up, and I whimpered as blood slowly dripped down towards my eyes. The woman was gasping, struggling against my power with her own; Otto just stood there for a moment, then reached out and touched my forehead. Everything fell still, and I slowly moved, staring up at him in uncertain surprise and his fingers dug slightly into my open scar, making it bleed more, but not hurt, strangely enough. In fact, it felt rather… well, not nice. More, well, peaceful, I guess. My eyes got heavy lidded, and I blinked lethargically as Anita reeled in her own power, gasping and shaking. I blinked slowly, breathing deep and even, then blinked when the zombie appeared behind her, eyes filled with more life then before.

"No," I said hoarsely; it froze before it would have grabbed the Marshal. "Bad zombie," I muttered sleepily. "No trying to eat the odd lady. Bad, no treat for you," I muttered, eyes closing. I slumped forward, large hands catching me easily, and sank into darkness with a soft sigh.

Olaf, under the alias Otto, stared down at the petite beauty in his arms silently, cradled in one arm. The other one was still pressing silently on the wound on the boy's forehead, marveling at the unnatural smoothness of its edges. The boy shifted, and strangely enough, pressed _into_ the sociopath's fingers, making more blood roll down his angelic if too-thin face. In fact, Olaf thought, eyes narrowing slightly, _everything_ about the teen was too thin. His arms, legs, body. His stomach was positively concave, and he had to weigh only about ninety pounds soaking wet.

"Anita?" Edward, or Ted Forrester as he was at the moment, asked, gun out and pointed at the zombie, who gave him what could only be an amused look, before it shuffled over and stood silently, patiently, next to Olaf. The sociopath gave it a silent, brooding stare, fingers never stopping their continual tracing of the bloody wound.

"I'm fine!" The petite necromancer gasped, sweating and wheezing, shaking uncontrollably. "The kids powerful, way too fucking powerful," she managed as she tried to control her breathing. "He could have raised every freaking cemetery in the fucking _state_ with that kind of power, and that's _without_ a human sacrifice, Edward," she hissed; the blond man turned narrowed blue eyes on the unconscious and bloody form, who, even as he watched, seemed to snuggle into the insane murderers arms. Olaf remained impassive, staring silently down at the small teen.

"What happened?" Edward asked the necromancer simply; Anita took a slow, steady breath.

"He unknowingly raised the zombie," she told her long time friend calmly. "He started freaking out when I started asking questions, and passed out after his power got out of control." She frowned in confusion.

"Trapped," Olaf said in his deep voice; they looked at him. He gave them brooding eyes. "He felt trapped. He does not like attention, and has been abused." Anita scowled.

"How the hell would you-" she cut off as the sociopath merely lifted the boy's incredibly baggy shirt, exposing his concaved stomach, easily countable ribs, vicious bruises and multiple scars. Harry whimpered in his sleep and attempted to move away. Olaf dropped his shirt and returned to firmly rubbing the scar, making the boy fall limp and still, breathing deeply and calmly. Anita grimaced, disgusted, before giving Olaf a vicious glare.

"Either hand the boy to Edward or set him down, Olaf," she growled, eyes narrowed. He gave her a silent glare.

"Why?" he rumbled coldly, black eyes narrowed as he curled his arm more firmly around the boy. The zombie growled at Anita, which made her start, surprised. She shook her head and glared up at the sociopathic killer, hands on her hips.

"Because I don't trust you," she said simply, eyes narrowed. "He fits your type to a T, with the exception of being a male and a kid. I don't trust you not to do something, so I would _appreciate_ it if you did as I asked." They glared at each other, before Olaf silently turned and carefully handed the unconscious boy to Edward, who took him gently. As soon as he was out of Olaf's arms, Harry wriggled, eyes slowly blinking into consciousness. Then he froze, utterly still and eyes wide, darting around like a frightened rabbit. With a twisting writhe of his body, he was out of Edwards's arms, around Olaf, and hiding behind the zombie, breath coming in terrified pants as the zombie instantly snarled at the others, hunching and protective.

"Who are you?" Harry gasped out, terrified, "what happened? What time is it? I didn't mean to!" He keened and shivered, staring around fearfully, eyes slightly glazed.


	6. The Flare

**This is NOT a chapter/story/whatever.**

It_ is_ an update thingy.

I just want everyone to know that, should anyone request to Adopt a prompt/story from me, I shall post their name and the title of the fic they've chosen and what name they've changed it to (If they've decided to) in what I'll call **Flare Updates**.

I've already replied to a handful of my AWESOME Reviewers about this, but I just thought I'd let those who've only favorited/added this fic (which is, in no way, a problem) know what was happening.

ALSO!

Let it be known that up to FIVE PEOPLE may adopt each fic, but no more! We do NOT want a gazillion fics out there with the same plot, first chapter, or OC's, or something. The number of people to whatever adopted fic will also be mentioned in each **Flare**.

Please enjoy the following updates to make up for my lack in other fics.

_**Hugs & Kittens,**_

_**~WizardsGirl~**_


	7. Unprepared

**A/N:** I do Not Own Transformers. I Own Only OOCness and yadda-yadda-blah-blah, you get the picture. -_-

_Note - _This is one of very few non-HP x-overs I've actually written. Inspired by some other fic that hasn't been updated in an obscenely long period of time, I present y'all with it. Do with it as ye see fit.

_**COLLAR RULES**_

1. Decepticon's must be Evil and still all-for the destruction of the human race and Autobots. They just have a bit of a reluctant respect-spot for Sam, as a Warrior who was betrayed by his own "Kind" as it were.

2. Must Be Sam/Con Slash. Who you pair him with is up to you. I'd _prefer_ Megatron, but that's just me.

3. Little to no Autobot Bashing is to be done by any but the 'Con's. Sam is NOT to be all "It's you're fault, Optimus" or "I hate you for abandoning me Bumblebee" or "Why didn't you find me? Did you even _care?_" with the 'Bots.

4. PTSD!Sam. Insane!Sam. TRAUMATIZED!SAM. He cannot be all hunky-dory after what I put him through, do you understand? My hard work will NOT end up giving him a happy little ending right away, he will NOT trust/feel safe/believe everything that's happening is real right away. Hell, have him flashback, hallucinate, and seizure, as long as you don't fix him, and when you do, don't do it through_**timeskips!**_

5. Dark!Sam, while I'm at it.

**Unprepared**

**Prologue**

Giant robots. Now that's an eye-catcher as the beginning of a story, isn't it? Giant robots. It was an eye catcher in real life as well. When my beaten up Camaro turned into one such robot, my world turned upside down.

Apparently, there's this big war going on, on a far away planet called Cybertron…And doesn't _that _sound like some B Rated Sci-fi movie? Anyway, there are these two factions of giant robots. The usual Bad Guy and Good Guy job, you know?

There are, the Bad Guys: The Decepticons. They are a bunch of robots that have this belief that humans are only 'flesh-bags' or 'squishy' and so are running around earth trying to steal our sun so they can have all of it's power and destroy the good guys. Funny thing about the sun: Without it's energy, we. All. DIE. But, that's the reason the Decepticons are the Bad Guys see? They're all for it.

Okay, Good Guys now: The Autobots. These guys are robots who believe that all life and beings that have free will should be allowed to live their lives unhindered by the War. They wanted to keep the war as far away from Earth as possible, but certain things came into play. Things that forced them into action.

My grandfather was one of them.

See, Grandpa Witwickey was an explorer. One day, in the arctic, he found the greatest discovery the government had ever gotten. He found the Decepticon leader: Megatron, frozen and in a state that amounted to robotic unconsciousness. They call it Stasis.

Well, when Grandpa died a few years later, he left me his glasses. Back then I thought they were junk. I even put them up on EBay in the hopes of selling them so I could get a car. Turns out they were worth a lot more then I would have gotten them for, anyway.

You see, when Gramps stumbled upon Megatron, he accidentally activated some kind of scanner, which copied certain, important information onto the glass of his glasses. So, when he died, guess who suddenly, and unknowingly, had the very important information? You see where this is going yet? If you do, congrats. I had no fucking clue. If you don't, at least I have company in the Realm of Cluelessness, right?

Anyways, so I suddenly had something that was _very_ important to both sides of the War. Oh, right, you don't know what the information was do you? Well, I'm not really sure, but Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots, told me it had something to do with activating the AllSpark. The AllSpark was this bit of machinery that held the AllSpark, the power that created the Cybertronians. Their only way to save their planet, and reproduce. Of course, I didn't know that until later.

Ah, you noticed I said 'was', not 'is', did you? Well, that's a bit of the problem I have now. You see, when Bumblebee, my Camaro-Turned-Robot from earlier, introduced me to the Autobots, there were things set into motion that I and this girl I _really_ liked, Mikaela, were forced to deal with. The government all but kidnapped us, really _did_ kidnap Bumblebee, and took us all to this secret base in Hoover Dam, where they not only held the still-frozen Megatron to experiment on, but they also held the AllSpark. They were called Sector-7. The nut-jobs of the government, paid to do funky experiments they believed prudent, and to keep it all quiet. Area 51? Sector-7 dealt with it. Any people who stepped forward with information that touched, even briefly, to a Sector-7 case, disappeared. They could be some scary guys, let me tell you.

Well, they wanted to experiment on Bumblebee, but before they could, Megatron woke up. He was _not _a happy camper, I assure you. Mikaela, Bumblebee and I managed to escape with the AllSpark. But, we only made it as far as Mission City, where we were attacked by Decepticons and joined by the Autobots. There were army-guys there as well, so lots of explosions and people screaming. I'm not ashamed to admit I was one of the screaming people, half-of-the-time, at least…

Well, while the giant robots were fighting, I still had the AllSpark. Bumblebee got hurt, temporarily loosing his legs. Mikaela took care of him; I ran as fast as I could, followed by Megatron, up to the top of a really tall building. I was trapped, AllSpark in my arms, in the shape of a basketball-sized cube, on the corner of the buildings roof. Megatron told me to give him the AllSpark, and he 'might' keep me as a pet.

I don't do well with death threats.

I do even worse with threats of servitude to giant robots that don't give a shit if you stay healthy and happy.

So, I had three options. Option A.) Tell Megatron to fuck off and he squishes me. Not good. Option B.) Give Megatron the AllSpark, and MAYBE be stuck as his pet. Even worse. Option C.) Say fuck you anyways, and jump off the hundred-thirty-story building, most likely to my squishy death, but make sure evil robot doesn't get AllSpark. Hmm, choices, choices…

It's safe to say I jumped.

Why aren't I a squishy pile of gooey gore on the street, you ask? Well, Optimus caught me as I fell, and fell with me. Megatron followed. Optimus told me that I had to shove the AllSpark into his chest; that he'd sacrifice himself to stop Megatron. You know how when people say Sacrifice, it means more then dying sometimes, right? The loss of a limb, of a sense, of a loved one. The loss of ones humanity, sanity, happiness, life. Sacrifice means a lot of different things for humans. Well, when Megatron was crawling towards me, saying he'd kill me (See? Option B wasn't even a real option! Stupid lying robot…) I did the only thing I could think of. I shoved the AllSpark into the glowing middle of his chest. Into his Spark, his heart.

This was a very chancy decision on my part. I had no clue what the AllSpark was capable of. Any show of power I'd witnessed it doing was _creating_ life. For all I knew, it would turn Megatron into some Uber Robot God, or something like that. What I didn't expect it to do was kill him in a blast of bright blue light. And I definitely didn't expect the surge of power that went though my body.

I never told anyone that part. That the blue light also went into me as well as Megatron. Luckily, I'm not a giant robot, so it didn't kill me. It just made me… different. My Reading Level and learning capabilities skyrocketed. I had to hide that, though. I didn't want the government after me, or Sector-7, which was supposedly disbanded. Yeah, 'cause the government never lies to us… Mikaela and I got together after that. We dated, made out, and I admit, we fell in love. Of course, she wouldn't say it until I told her, and _I_ wouldn't tell _her_ for the same reason. Drove her crazy. And then I went to college.

One of the _biggest_ mistakes of my life, besides the AllSpark thing, but that comes later. Anyways, almost as soon as I get to the school, things started to happen. Alien Symbols no one else could see, roommate that's a Government Conspiratorial Chaser, Psycho Robot-Chick shoving a five-foot-long _tongue _down my freaking _throat_ before trying to kill me. Megatron apparently getting his body back, almost having my _skull _cut_ open _by this creepy little scorpion-like Decepticon doctor named Scalpel… Let's see, there was more…

Optimus died, and I _really_ don't want to talk about that… I had to find the old leader of Sector-7 (he's a creeper, just so you know… and weird, obsessive, and did I mention a creeper?), then all of us, Mikaela, my roommate, Sector-7 douche-bag, and the Autobots, all had to try and find this ancient, Cybertronian artifact, called the Matrix, that would bring Optimus back to life. Of course, we had to find it before The Fallen did. Oh, he was once a Prime, a lord type thing of the Cybertronians, but he wanted to destroy the Earths sun so that Cybertron could live. His seven brothers disagreed, which was why he got called The Fallen, because he betrayed them.

Honestly, now that I think about it, I basically doomed the entire Cybertronian race to a slow genocide just to save my planet. I can kind of understand the belief that someone else's planet isn't worth your own, but I did it accidentally. They want to do it on purpose…

Anyways, The Fallen got to Egypt the same time, roughly, that we did. We found the Matrix, but it turned to dust. The army dropped off Optimus's body for us, and we made a beeline for it. Unfortunately, The Fallen called in some back-up in the form of, like, eighty freaking Decepticons. AND he cheated by bringing in my parents. Well, that just wasn't cool at all, so I had to retaliate.

I almost made it to Optimus, Matrix dust in a sock I had. Decepticons were trying to kill me; Autobots were shooting. Army-guys shouted and pulled Mikaela and my parents to safety. I was so close…

And then I died.

Oh, I had no idea it had happened. I remember sharp pain in my back and being thrown thanks to a shrapnel bomb or something. I remember the world going black, and then nothing but warmth. I found myself in a warm place, where nothing hurt, where I wasn't tired, where I had no real responsibility. There was a lot of gold and silver light, billowing around like clouds. I think it might have been Heaven, but then the spirits of the Seven Prime brothers, the ones The Fallen had betrayed, stepped out and spoke to me.

I was in Robot Heaven…

That should have been a sign.

They told me I had a leader's Spark. A lot of courage and honor. That they had been watching me for a while (Creepers…Just kidding) and were happy with what they saw. That I'd taken huge risks, followed my instincts, and faced death for my loved ones. That it was the mark of a great Prime, a gifted leader. Their words made me feel proud, happy, confident, and, for the first time since the AllSpark had been destroyed in my hands, I felt like I wasn't a freak.

And then they sent me back, and I knew what to do. I scooped up my sock of Matrix dust, and climbed onto Optimus's corpse. The dust transformed back into its original shape, and I slammed it into the dark place where the Prime's Spark resided. Like I had come back from the dead, so did he. He got up, one of my best friends, a 'bot I trusted with my life, and kicked Decepticon ass. He killed the Fallen and sent the rest of his followers running with their tails between their legs! He was a hero, and Mikaela and I made up and said the three-word bomb.

That was three months before she dumped me. She couldn't understand what was going on with me. I'd had that reading and leaning upgrade before; you remember that? Nothing compared to after I died. I had major problems trying to dumb myself down at school. I calculated things now: How many wrong answers would be average for a B/C+ student? If I did this computer program, would I find myself under scrutiny? I had to dumb myself down, and it took all of my concentration.

I never missed another E-Date since the first one. I called. I visited as often as I could. But Mikaela just wasn't happy, and that's all I wanted for her. I told her this, when she came to me to tell me we were through. All I wanted was for her to be happy, doing something she loved, with someone who could help her keep that happiness. We still talked, every once in a while. Her new boyfriend, David, is a mechanic who loved machines and made custom cars. They were happy together. I'm still kind of jealous, but it's something I can't focus on, just a little thing hidden in the back of my head that I'd shuffle into a Delete Folder later in life.

Now, without Mikaela in my life, I found myself spending more and more time with Bumblebee. We went on drives, and talked about dreams and ideas. I never told him about the mental-upgrade, and I'm still a little guilty about that, but I had no choice. The government was monitoring everything I did. I knew this, having found bugs and taps in my computers and phones. They probably had one in Bumblebee that he didn't know about yet. There was no place I could go that would be totally safe for me to just be myself.

I worked with it. I got a crappy laptop from a pawnshop, and hid it inside my backpack when I left with a violin case in hand. I learned how to play it in ten minutes. I was suddenly a musical protégé, but it was only because of the AllSpark's energy in me, it's computer-mindset picking up everything I'd ever known or seen of a violin and making my fingers go through the motions. It was actually kind of soothing, playing music.

Anyway, to the laptop. I fixed it up, until it was running ten-times faster then a computer of it's age and in its condition should be able to. I ran programs that slipped into government computers unseen and copied down whatever I felt like looking through that day. I had a copy of my own file, and of any file that pertained to the Autobots or Decepticons. All encrypted and password-coded with so many different algorithms that _I_ didn't understand it. I didn't have to, though.

The AllSpark energy did.

Everything was going pretty good. I might have been a little stressed, a little snappish, but, other then that? Everything was good. And then Sector-7 caught me.

I can understand the Decepticons better now.

I really hate humans. Give me giant alien robots any day.

**ONE**

Pain is a funny thing. So is fear. Great motivators, especially when put together. Sector-7 knew this, and used it. I was tortured, experimented on. Made to fear, to hate. They wanted to see what would happen if they put this here, removed that there; electrocuted that. Well, the electrocution thing only happened once, because the power of fifty thousand bolts ricocheted off of my prone body and killed everyone within a hundred feet. It was labeled too dangerous to try again.

They killed me seventeen times. I was drowned, beaten, strangled, stabbed, shot, suffocated, and decapitated. Let me tell you, the last one was just freaky. No one thought I would come back from_ that_ one, but the dead Primes sent me back. Me head went flying across the room and reattached itself. I woke up and freaked out a bit. I mean, my freaking _head_ was _off_! And then it was _back_! And let me tell you something.

Dying_ hurts_. Coming back, though? Hurt's even _worse_. After the fourth time, I was begging them to let me stay dead. After the tenth, I was mostly insane. After the fifteenth, I was catatonic, locked mostly in my own mind, still aware but not apart of the world around me. After the seventeenth, something happened that just snapped my fragile mind.

One of the soldiers raped me.

Apparently, the scientists wanted more of an emotional reaction then anything else. Maybe they were just bored, or maybe just sadistic fucks. I don't know, but what I do know is that I'd had enough.

You know those stories, where the eighty-year-old lady lifts a truck off of her grandchild? Or the stories of the man who got shot point-blank in the head and lived? It was kind of like one of those 'Whoa…' moments when I fully realized what the soldier was doing to me. I just… Snapped.

Blue light ripped from me and I screamed, furious and insane, and the man just… Disintegrated in front of my eyes. The table, the room, the entire building disintegrated, people with it, and they screamed and ran, but my power caught them. I curled into a fetal position, eyes totally blue, lying on the sand of the desert the building had been in. Nothing mattered at that moment. I was blinded, temporarily, by the sunlight. It hurt my skin, but I had a very high pain-tolerance now.

I remember hearing the scream of a jet engine. I remember curling into a tighter ball, the AllSpark energy filling me as it felt some of its children getting nearer. I didn't care. I just didn't care any more. Megatron himself could have happened upon me, and I would have welcomed death with total happiness. I heard voices, and someone picked me up. It was a robot; I knew that, because the hand I was cradled in was huge. I felt the power settling down and closed my eyes. When they stopped tingling, I opened them again and slowly lifted my head.

Starscream's red optics stared down at me, wary and assessing. I stared at him with my blank dark green, wondering if he was going to kill me. I turned my head slowly, and saw that his two brothers, I don't remember their names, were beside him. I turned my eyes back on the Decepticon and sighed softly, laying my head back down on his hand. I closed my eyes and relaxed, slipping into the familiar blackness of unconsciousness.

For the moment, I felt safe, cradled in the hand of an enemy. I didn't mind. Safety was a comfort I hadn't had in a long, long time. I was willing to take it in any way I could. Even if it was all just an illusion created by the AllSpark in order to coax me into a false sense of security so that its' energy could heal me, yet again. Still, I let it.

It was, after all, all I had left that mattered in this world.


	8. Prevailing Sparks

**A/N:** Again, I own nothing but variances in plot and such, all OC's, you know the drill, people!

_Note - _I thought that, since I just posted Unprepared, I'd go ahead and post this one. It was kinda fun to write, but my Bunny, again, got distracted by something most-probably shiny and ran away, so it's up for adoption.

_**COLLAR RULES**_

1. Harry has to stay a Sparkling for a rather long time, and has to have fun hooking Autobots up with Decepticons.

2. Jazz/Barricade. JAZZ DIDN'T DIE! BARRICADE DIDN'T DIE! So there! (Sticks tongue out, in total denial that any reference to any part of the movie happening in which either of the above-mentioned robots dying happened).

3. Would find it amusing if Optimus & Starscream hooked up, because it is a strange pairing. Also, suggestion ~ Megatron and Ratchet, OR Ironhide. JUST a suggestion though. You don't have to actually do this one.

4. Mikaela!Bashing. Megan Fox can't really act, people! I'm sorry, I didn't like her character, she was too set-up for me. But if you adopt this, you Must Bash her with a wrench, ratchet, or some other ironic tool.

5. GAY!SAM! OMG, he's such a cute sub… (Squee~!)

I'm done now.

**R&R!**

**Prevailing Sparks**

**Prologue: Decisions**

Magic was a very possessive person… Entity… Whatever she was. Once she showed a witch or wizard that they had her blessing, she did as much as possible to make their further existence as pleasant as possible. However, she refrained from involving herself in their affairs if it was possible. As she watched her current favorite for the first time in centuries lying on the bloody battlefield after having sacrificed himself for the Wizarding World, only to be abandoned by so-called friends when he was at his most vulnerable, she cried silently. She wrapped her power around him, feeling the fatal injuries that the magical-backlash from killing his archenemy had caused, wounds she knew she could not heal, and she mourned his pain. He coughed up a small mouthful of blood, and she appeared next to him, dressing in her white robes, wearing the body of a young child, as she always had for him.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered, tears falling from her kaleidoscope eyes. Her tiny, soft hand wiped the bright red blood away. He looked up at her with pain-glazed emerald eyes, and smiled bloody lips slightly.

"H-hey, Maggie," he whispered hoarsely; she held his face in her hands gently, setting his head on her lap.

"Oh, my sweet," she whispered sadly; the nineteen-year-old turned his head and kissed her tiny palm, leaving a bloody smudge, still smiling weakly.

"I did it," he whispered to her. "He's finally gone." Shoulders shaking slightly from crying, the deity nodded woefully. "It's a good death that awaits me, Maggie," he told her raggedly. "A place without pain or hatred. Just. Peace." He sighed as he said it, eyes closing and a single tear slipping down his cheek. "It won't hurt anymore, Maggie. It won't hurt anymore." Magic leaned down and kissed his forehead gently, her own tears mixing with his. When she leaned up again, she took a slow, deep breath.

"There is another choice, little one," she said softly; Harry hummed weakly, looking up at her tiredly. "I have a friend," she told him quietly. "He's the guardian of another world, another species. His children are known as Cybertronians," she told him. "His name is Primus. His children are at war with themselves, as they were here, but there is one thing that they all have in common." She took a deep breath.

"They are no longer able to reproduce," she told him quietly. "In a battle, the Autobots and the Decepticons, the two fractions of his children, were fighting each other with the help of humans. One such human, who's allied with the Autobots who seek peace, destroyed the only thing that could have saved the Cybertronian race, by defending his friends and risking his life to shove the device, known as the All-Spark, into the lead Decepticon's chest, killing him. He was changed by it, altered, and perhaps destined to die, as you were here, I don't know." She stroked his blood-matted hair gently.

"You could have a new life, my child," she said quietly. "A new opportunity to have a childhood. A new chance at life. You need not fight in their war, and they will not ask you. You'd be a child to them, a Sparkling, to be protected and loved. Both fractions would risk their lives to make sure you are happy and healthy, no matter what." Harry shuddered as another wave of pain rolled through him, and Death inched his way ever closer. Harry panted weakly.

"It-" he coughed up another mouthful of blood. "It s-sounds n-nic-ce… What's…the…catch?" He managed to gasp, lungs weakening as more and more blood seeped into them, making his breaths rattle horribly. Magic closed her eyes as a similar pain thrilled through her core in sympathy for her chosen.

"You'd still have all your memories of this world," she told him quietly. "Even the most loathed and the most painful. You'd have to choose to push them behind you, to try and make a new life for yourself." She sensed he was starting to fade, and hurried on. "Please, Harry, please choose! If you choose to go on from here, you'll not be forced. If you choose the offer, then you'll not be forced. Please, Harry," she whispered, staring at him. "Please." He took one last rattling breath, and smiled up at her, eyes dimming. He sighed out his last breath with one word,

"Offer." As his heart finally gave its last stuttering beats, Magic sighed and sent all of her power into her dying chosen, and he disappeared. She felt the familiar pulse of warm, blue power behind her when she stood, and turned with a weary, sad look to the being behind her.

He was tall and thin, made of white metal with glowing blue sigils all over, ever shifting, ever different. His glowing blue eyes looked down at her silently, gently, and his metal mouth smiled sadly.

"**I will take care of him,"** he told her, mouth never moving; she nodded sadly, tears rising in her eyes but not falling.

"I know you will, Primus," she said quietly. "I leave him in your capable hands, old friend," she told him wearily. He placed one gentle, metal hand on her blond head, bowed his head, and disappeared in a soft flicker of blue. Magic sighed softly, and looked around. The world would never be the same. Sighing again, she closed her kaleidoscope eyes and disappeared with a small pop, back to her room so she could continue to watch her remaining children and mourn in private the one who had saved them.

This time.

**One: Something New**

Harry didn't remember the transition from one world to the next. He was unconscious throughout his transition from human to alien robot. Primus made sure of it, so that he didn't feel the pain the transition would have caused. When it was done, the Cybertronian deity sent his newest child to Earth, where the war was continuing despite the fact that both leaders of both fractions had already died and then been revived, and the fact that it was rolling over into the human affairs. The Robot God sighed, blue optics sad and gentle.

"**Perhaps Harry can help,"** he said softly to himself, and then sighed again. **"We can only hope. We can only hope." **

Harry woke when he slammed into something with a lot of force, crying out in startled pain. Shuttering and unshuttering his optics, he slowly sat up, looking around. He was in a crater, a good fifteen feet deep, and it looked like, wherever he was, it was about midday. Letting out a soft sigh, he lifted a hand to pull himself up, and found himself staring at it in fascination.

His digits were just as thin and narrow as they'd been before, but now they were a gorgeous green, with silver cords and slivers peeking out at the joints. Looking down, he stared at his body. His feet were small and neat, without toes, and a dark green with silver highlights, which climbed up his legs, the green lightening on the way. Following up to his chest, where the silver turned into an oddly beautiful design around his chest, the green nearly lime. He saw the green darken slightly again as it went down his arms to his fingers, which he now noticed were tipped in tiny, silver claws.

"Dude!" Came a sudden cry; Harry's head jerked up and he fell back with a started chirp and whistle. Then whimpered as his head banged on a rock, feeling the sudden urge to start crying well up. He choked it off, but a couple of whimpers tore from him. Staring down at him from the craters lip were two men. One had dirty-blond hair that reached his shoulders, wearing a red bandanna to hold it out of his face, which was long and tanned, with blue eyes and a smudge of grease on his right cheek, and looked like he was about seventeen, give or take a year. The other looked about the same age, with black hair, blue eyes, a set of loops piercing in his lower lip that Harry vaguely remembered were called 'Snake-bites', and he also had a smudge of grease, only it was across his forehead, like he'd wiped it with a dirty hand. He kind of reminded Harry of Sirius...

Harry blinked up at them as they gaped down at him, and sniffled, feeling his eyes well. _Crap_, he thought as more whimpers escaped his throat. He didn't think he was ready for company of any sort, let alone human. The blond looked at the other.

"What do you think it is?" he asked; the black haired guy blinked at the blond.

"Dude," he said, eyes wide. "I think it's one of them alien robots, dude," he stage-whispered. The blonde eyes widened even more.

"Whoa, man," he said; then looked down at Harry as he began to whimper louder, with soft, hiccupping-chirps of distress. "But," the blond said, frowning. "Its so… tiny." They peered down at him and Harry lost his battle. He began to cry, whistling, wailing, and chirping with fearful distress, drowned by the feelings his new body set up.

"It's a _baby_ robot!" The black haired exclaimed; the blond gaped.

"Dude!" He gasped as Harry continued to wail. "We gotta get it outta there! It could hurt itself!" The black haired kid nodded, face becoming determined.

"You try and calm it down," he told the blond. "I'll go and get the tow-truck." The blond nodded and swung long, jean-clad legs over the lip of the crater and slid down with a bucketful of dirt and rocks. Harry cowered away from him instinctively, and he began to talk soothingly to the distressed baby robot.

"Hey, it's okay little 'bot!" he said, hands moving around in patting gestures but not touching. Harry's optics caught on the movements and his wailing settled down a bit into whistles, chirps and whines. "That's it, little 'bot! My name's C.J., and my bud Billy'll be here in a minute with the truck, and we'll get you out of this pit and take care of ya, no worries, okay little 'bot? No need ta cry!" Harry quieted, sniffling and whistling sadly, watching the human, who smiled at him. "That's it!" The sound of a truck backing up, with the annoying _beep-beep-beep_ sound, was heard, and C.J. looked up.

A crane with a thick wire cable and big hook soon appeared over the pit. C.J. smiled reassuringly at Harry, who chirruped curiously, tears forgotten as curiosity filled him. The nineteen-year-old couldn't help but wonder if the baby-instincts' would always drown out his common sense, or if, eventually, he'd get some control over them.

"C.J.?" The black haired teen called after the sound of closing doors was heard. His head appeared over the lip of the crater. "I'm gonna lower the hook, 'kay? You should wrap it around it's chest and have it hold the cable while I lift it out, 'kay?" C.J. nodded.

"Cool, dude! Lower it down." The blond smiled at Harry as Billy disappeared again, and after a few moments, the crane shook and a motor ran, lowering the hook. C.J. stood straight, making small 'gimme!' gestures, as the hook got closer. Grabbing it, the teen held onto it as the wire continued to lower; then C.J. shouted at Billy to stop. The blond crouched next to Harry, who stared at him warily.

"I need you to sit up, little buddy," he said gently. "Can ya do that for me?" Harry sniffled and let out a soft whistle. He carefully pushed himself into a sitting position, and rubbed his eyes with both fists, like any toddler would, chirruping softly. "That's it, little 'bot," C.J. crooned and wrapped the cable around his chest, under his armpits, and wrapped the hook around the cable as well before making sure it was locked. Then he smiled at Harry. "Can you hold this while Billy pulls you up?" He showed the baby robot, who mimicked him carefully, and let out a startled rush of clicks, whistles, and chirps as he was lifted, optics wide. C.J. scrambled nimbly up the crater's wall, and stood next to the back of the truck.

Once Harry was hovering about three feet above the crater, Billy moved the truck forward a few yards. Harry let out squeals, whistles, and clicks of delight as he swung, laughing happily. The cable lowered him carefully to the ground, where he was unhooked by C.J. As soon as his support was gone, though, the newly created baby robot overbalanced and fell on his butt with a whirr of shock, shuttering and unshuttering his optics rapidly. C.J. crouched down, looking at him worriedly, and Harry whistled and chirruped at the blond, smiling and clapping his hands to show he was all right. Instantly, the blond gave a relieved sigh and stood again as Billy got out of the truck and hurried over to them.

"What are we gonna do with it?" the blond asked his friend, who pursed his lips.

"I think it's a boy," he said; C.J. turned intent eyes on Harry, peering at him carefully, then nodded.

"Okay," he agreed. "What are we gonna do with _him_?" They frowned and thought for a few minutes, and Harry found himself trying to pull his foot up to his mouth, falling back and cooing as he finally succeeded, getting lost in the childish triumph of succeeding while he happily gummed his foot, the metal of his mouth and said foot clanging gently as he chewed.

"Well," Billy finally said. "First we should get him somewhere safe, where no one will just, y'know, walk in on him or somethin'." C.J. nodded, then his eyes lit up.

"What about the garage?" he asked; Billy blinked. "We're the only one's 'sides Mory, and he's not likely ta tell nobody. He don't even talk to _us_ that often! And we just got those banged up car batteries that we can give little 'bot here if he get's hungry." Billy pursed his lips, then grinned.

"Dude!" he exclaimed, smacking his buddy on the shoulder. "He can be a mascot!"

"Dude!" C.J. laughed, grinning and smacking his friend's shoulder as well. "That's totally bril'!" Billy grinned back; their bantering and excitement traveled over to Harry, making him laugh and clap his hands, sitting up, and trilling with delight.

"He needs a name, though," Billy announced; C.J. blinked.

"Well," he said with a small, thoughtful frown. "The garage is _Cars and Carts_. But neither of those sound like they'd fit him," he said; the two teens looked at him, and Harry beamed up at them happily, cooing. "What about Bolt?" C.J. asked. "He's got that silver lightening bolt on his head." Billy shook his head.

"Nah, too geekish." The black haired boy examined Harry, focusing on his head and then his hands, lips pursed. "How about Wrench?" he asked. Harry shuttered his optics and opened them again, letting out a series of inquisitive chips and clicks.

"Wrench," C.J. tried; Harry turned his head towards him; C.J. smiled. "Do you like that, little 'bot?" Harry turned it over in his mind a few times, then gave a mental shrug. Could be worse. Letting out a happy coo, he clapped his hands and hummed. C.J. grinned. "Wrench it is, then!" The newly named baby robot cooed and smiled, clapping his hands. This looked like the beginning of a rather interesting life.

It was already better then his last one, at least.

**Two: Discoveries**

Harry, or Wrench, as he was now, stared at the old man who was staring at him with eyes black enough that the wizard-turned-baby-robot couldn't see where pupil and iris separated, and was reminded strangely of Severus Snape. C.J. and Billy had explained his presence quickly once they had transported him to the _Cars and Carts Garage_, hiding his five-foot-five and nearly three hundred pound body in the tow-trucks cab under a tarp.

Mory was sixty-three years old, with hunched shoulders, bony hands with large knuckles, black eyes, black and iron gray hair that hung to his chin; his deeply tanned skin announced a connection with the local Indian tribe in some way, shape, or form. He had taken one look at Wrench, and hadn't looked away since, staring at him. Wrench finally cooed at him and lifted a hand, waving childishly, smiling. C.J. smiled at him and Billy walked over carrying a car battery that was hooked with one short jumper cable. He handed the cable to Wrench, who sucked it into his mouth and hummed as he sucked hungrily, the energy in the battery tasting stale but filling, so he didn't mind too much. He'd had worst, after all.

"…He stays hidden," Mory finally rumbled, then turned and walked away, towards one of the several junk cars. The garage was in the back of the building. You filled out paperwork in the building, and someone would take your vehicle to the garage, work on it, and bring it out front when they were finished. After it had been fixed up to the best of the three mechanic's abilities, the car was sold. It was efficient, and for C.J. and Billy, orphans who grew up learning more about cars then people, it allowed them to be themselves and not have to worry about awkward situations.

Wrench cooed and hummed, sucking the last juice out of the battery, before popping the cable from his mouth and playing with it, picking up the battery and banging the metal clamp on it, making dull clangs that, if he paused and started again, made a kind of nice sounding rhythm of bangs and thumps.

"Hey, little 'bot!" C.J. said, grinning at him as he popped the hood of an old red Ford truck. "You makin' music?" Wrench chirruped happily in response, beaming as he banged.

"He's kinda cute when he does that," Billy told his friend, voice muffled from being under the silver four-door Sedan that was a little ways away. "Even if the red eyes _are_ kinda wiggy." He grunted as a splurt of transmission fluid splattered on his cheek, making him grimace. Wrench blinked, then banged on his makeshift drum, thrumming happily. So his eyes were red, so what? Didn't make him evil. Just because Voldemort had red eyes didn't make Harry evil. Just because that fictional madman, Hannibal Lecter, had red eyes, didn't make Harry insane and evil, either… He needed to stop picking bad guys with red eyes to compare himself to, he decided, and focused once more on his makeshift drum, trilling in surprise when the metal of the clamp struck the metal of a nut, making sparks. Curious, he did it again, then squealed happily, making lots of sparks quickly, laughing.

After half an hour, though, he got bored. Moving to his knees, he crawled over to Billy, who was still under the Sedan. Cooing at the teen, Wrench scooped up one of his wrenches and bounced it gently against the Sedans front tire. Billy slid out slightly and smiled indulgently at the robot, chuckling when Wrench snatched up the hat he'd set aside, a baseball cap that said: _Save the Earth; I need somewhere to park my Porsche._ Cooing happily, the robot handed Billy the wrench and slapped the hat on his head, clapping his hands. Billy laughed and sat up, adjusted the hat size, and sat it on the robot's head better.

"There ya are, Wrench," he crowed, grinning. "You're a real member of the family, now." Wrench stared at him, then sniffled and threw his arms around the teen, hugging firmly, but gently, clicking and humming softly. Billy hugged him back, kissed his head fondly, and patted his back.

"Better?" he asked when Wrench pulled back; the wizard-turned-robot nodded shyly, then chirruped and crawled away, making Billy chuckle and slide back under the car. Wrench looked around curiously, and made his way over to a little, rust-covered, and dented blue Geo. Humming softly, sadly, he touched the crushed left headlight, and was startled when a green spark jumped from his fingertips to the damaged headlight and bumper. As he watched, red optics wide, the crushed corner slowly fixed itself, the headlight popping back into place, glass and bulb totally fixed.

Letting out curious clicks and whirrs, Wrench grabbed the bumper of the Geo and slowly, painstakingly, pulled himself to his feet. He stood there, unsteady and wobbly, and set his palms flat on the rusty hood. As he watched, more green sparks leaped from his outspread fingers, traveling all over the blue car. Rust fell away; dents and scratches disappeared. Cracked glass once again became flawless. The messed-up leather seats inside the car became supple and smooth. The tires became good as new, as if they'd never been used before. Harry let out a loud trill, optics wide.

"Wrench?" C.J. asked, hurrying over, wiping greasy hands with a badly stained rag. He froze and gaped at the blue Geo, blue eyes shocked, then looked at Wrench, who turned slowly, wobbling, his arms outstretched to keep his balance. Billy appeared behind him, staring, and Mory sidled over, black eyes calm. Wrench cooed and took a stumbling step, wobbling. Gaining confidence when he didn't automatically fall, he staggered a few more steps forward, then whistled in alarm as he almost fell. Billy and C.J. lunged forward, each grabbing an outstretched arm.

"Easy, little 'bot!" C.J. said, and, meeting Billy's eyes, the two of them continued to hold onto the baby robots arms. Carefully, slowly, they led him around the garage, helping him walk, and encouraging him. Finally, they let go of his arms, but stayed close as he walked around the garage on his own, letting out excited little coos and clicks, beaming and his red optics bright with happiness.

"Good job, little 'bot!" C.J. praised, patting Wrench on the shoulder with a proud smile; Billy moved over to the brand-new looking Geo. He popped the hood and examined it, amazed.

"Hey, Wrench?" he called; the green and silver robot looked over at him, still wearing the teen's baseball hat. "Can you tell us how you fixed this?" Wrench hesitated, then walked over carefully, still a little wobbly. He let out a series of clicks, whirrs and hums, grabbed the teen's hand and pulled him over to the Sedan he was working on. Red optics closing halfway, the robot crooned and placed both of his hands on the side of the car. C.J. and Billy gasped as green sparks leaped from his silver claws and along the cars side, fixing it to the point that it looked like it was brand new. Mory murmured something in another language, touching the car once Wrench had pulled his hands away.

"Remarkable," the old man murmured finally; Wrench looked around, feeling tired. He yawned, and made sleepy chirps. C.J. immediately led him towards the farthest, darkest corner of the garage, right next to the fridge that held various snacks and soda's that the three mechanic's used. Lying in the four-foot space between the side of the fridge and the wall was a beat-up mattress. Whirring and clicking sleepily, Wrench lay down on it without complaint, pulling a nearby battery close and sucking on the jumper cable. There was a pile of them in various conditions beside the bed.

As the baby robot started to fall asleep, drinking the battery, Billy pulled a tan tarp over him entirely, so that the light wouldn't go straight into his eyes if he woke up. As he fell asleep, Wrench/Harry couldn't help but decided that he was happy that he'd taken Magic's offer.

Three months passed. Business at the garage was booming as Wrench learned new ways to fix up a car. He learned quickly how to use the tools his makeshift family used, so he didn't need to use his newfound powers all the time. People donated more car batteries and old ones, so the baby robot never went hungry. He still couldn't talk in anything but mechanical sounds, but C.J. and Billy learned how to interpret him. The two had matured greatly, taking care of the young robot. They were excellent parents, at least, if not sociable with the human world besides Mory.

Wrench had learned a lot about his new body. He learned how to make his own tools from his hands, or servos, as they were actually called. He learned how to make small wheels come out of the bottom of his feet, like those roller-skate shoes, and use small thrusters on his ankles to zoom around the garage with ease. And he made his most important discovery.

He could fly.

It had been at the beginning of the third month, maybe a week after he'd discovered the wheels in his feet. He'd been sitting in the sun outside behind the building, idly fiddling with a broken radio and relaxing. He'd gotten bored and set the small radio aside, getting up. He'd stared at the sky longingly, and wished he could fly again. Something flashed in his optics for a millisecond, and there was a sound of shifting metal and a strange, heavy feeling on his back. He turned his head, red optics wide with wonder at the large wings that arched up over his head at an angle. A strange design in black on the tips of the wings clashed beautifully with the dark green and silver.

Getting an idea, the robot slowly smiled. Focusing on the twenty or so feet of concrete between him and the open field, Wrench clicked out his wheels and crouched. Taking a deep breath, he made sure his wheels were deployed, and then flipped on his ankle thrusters. His body shot forward like a rocket, and he hit the small ramp the concrete made to separate itself from the dirt, and launched into the air. His wings spread, and small thrusters at the backs of them flicked on, sending him flying.

Trilling and chirruping with joy, the small robot tilted to the side, turning. He flew nearly two hundred feet up, wobbling a bit as he got used to the new movements, and then flew in a random direction, cooing with joy. After about ten minutes at about a hundred miles per hour, he turned around and headed back. He looked up slightly when he heard another engine, and watched as a fighter jet zoomed over him. He blinked when it turned in midair.

Chirruping curiously, he drew himself up short, hovering instinctively. He stared at the jet, and his red optics landed on the sigil on its wings. Optics widening, he clicked and whirred at it, then touched his own wing before pointing at the jet. Someone shouted; Wrench looked down. He was above the garage, and C.J. and Billy were looking up at him, shielding their eyes with their hands. Squealing happily, Wrench twisted his body and nose-dived towards the two, bringing himself up short.

He landed on his feet, staggering with arms wide, cooing and whistling happily. C.J. and Billy grinned and hugged him. They all ignored the jet as it flew away at astonishing speed, not caring, though the noise it made when it left had to have hurt the two humans ears.

"Look at you, little 'bot!" C.J. said, touching his wings. "You grew wings! Was flying fun?" Wrench whirred and babbled at them excitedly in chirrups and whistles and coos, bouncing in place and gesticulating wildly. C.J. laughed and Billy grinned.

"I guess that's a yes," the black haired teen joked; C.J. laughed and nodded. Harry narrowed his eyes in concentration, and the metal shifted on his back again. He nearly staggered from the abrupt lack of weight as his wings disappeared. He cooed and clapped his servos happily, before following the teens into the garage and scooping up a large, heavy wrench. He loved the thing and carried it with him almost everywhere. He even slept with it, on occasion. Humming and whistling cheerfully, he got to work on the totaled Jeep a friend of C.J.'s had sent in with a desperate hope to save.

Life was good.

Life was great.

Life…

Was about to get way too complicated.

**Three: Robots**

Wrench woke to the sound of fighting and roars, explosions and screeching metal. The garage shook, and C.J. and Billy shouted and ran around, confused and scared. Wrench grabbed his wrench and ran with them to the back of the garage. They got there in time to watch a pair of robots slam into the dirt, snarling and hitting each other. They were gigantic compared to Wrench, who screeched with shock, drowned out by the sound of a furious roar.

"Filthy Autobot scum!" The bigger of the two, a white and black robot with glaring red optics, snarled at the smaller, silver robot with bright blue eyes, and hit him with one clawed fist.

"Ya talk too much, Barricade, ya piece of Decepticon slag! " the silver one spat, slamming a large fist into the other's face. They rolled and hit each other some more, and Wrench finally had enough. Running out, he threw his wrench as hard as he could, smacking the silver Autobot in the head, and then managing to hit the Decepticon in the face when the wrench ricocheted. They both yelped and looked over at him, freezing. He screeched and whirred, whistled, and clicked, hissed and thrummed in anger, stomping over towards them and shaking his hand at them, finger wagging like they were naughty children.

"What the Primus?" The silver Autobot breathed, rolling off of the Decepticon, who sat up, gaping at the green and silver robot as he continued to scold them in clicks and noises. "What's ah Sparkling doin' _here_?" The Autobot demanded, staring at Wrench, blue optics huge. Wrench glared at them both, scowling, and then scooped up his wrench and shook it at them, free hand on his hip. _For shame_, he thought with a flicker of annoyed amusement.

"There hasn't been a Sparkling in three vron, thirty Earth centuries," the Decepticon, Barricade if Wrench remembered, breathed, shifting to his knees. "Starscream told Megatron that he thought he'd found one, but no one wanted to believe him." The Autobot knelt down beside him dazedly, both not noticing their proximity to the other, staring at the Sparkling.

"It looks like he's been here for awhile," the Autobot said; then shot a furious glare at Barricade. "What's ah Decepticon Sparkling doin' out here withou' protection! He coulda been offlined!" Barricade recoiled, shocked at the vicious ferocity the smaller robot had aimed at him, far worse then he had in their fight just moments before.

"We were not informed!" He snapped back. "It cannot be one of our members on-planet, and none of our operatives on Cybertron have sent word that a Sparkling was being sent! If they had, we would have collected the little one and kept him safe! Like I said, Starscream reported a possible sighting, but Megatron told him it was impossible! We all believed he'd seen a small mech, not a young one!" Wrench, tired of being ignored, brought out his wings and shot into the air, hovering in front of the two. He whirred and whistled angrily, and they gaped anew at him.

"A _Changeling_?" The Autobot whispered, sitting back abruptly. Wrench thought that, if robots could go pale, then both of the older robots would have. As it was, their optics went huge and lightened several shades.

"But," Barricade whispered, staring at Wrench, whose hands were on his hips, red eyes glaring. "Changelings are extinct! Their Sparking Capacity Levels were too low to continue their race, and they died out!" Wrench recoiled abruptly, staring at them, anger forgotten momentarily. His breed was _extinct?_ As in, he was the last of his kind? As in alone? He dropped slowly, shocked. When his feet touched the ground, he retracted his wings and let himself fall on his butt, staring blankly into space. _He was all alone again._ He was once more a freak. A freak among a species of giant, alien robots. Soft chirps of distress fell from his lips, and tears welled. Did no one want him beside C.J. and Billy? Was he _really_ this unlucky? This… unlovable?

As he began to cry and wail in distress, the silver robot carefully picked him up, cradling him gently, instinctively to his chest, to the left of his Spark. He made his engine purr, rocking slightly and crooning softly. Barricade peered worriedly at the Sparkling, reaching out and rubbing his tiny head with the tip of his clawed finger with utmost gentleness. The Autobot gave him a wary look, but didn't say anything. After a few minutes, Wrench fell silent, sniffling, and clutching to the Autobot's chest plate, hiding his face. When he decided he could move without crying, he turned his face and rested his cheek on the silver metal, looking uncertainly over at Barricade. He let out a soft series of clicks and whirrs, then leaned back against the hand that cradled him gently.

The Autobot moved his hands carefully, one under, one behind, so that it was impossible for Wrench to fall. The green and silver Changeling sniffled again and rubbed his optics with both fists adorably. Barricade and the Autobot peered at him worriedly, each trying to see if there was anything wrong with him.

"Hey, giant robot dudes!" Came a shout; all three robots looked down to stare at C.J. and Billy, who were glaring up at them furiously. "Gives us back our little 'bot!" C.J. shouted angrily, arms crossing and wrench in hand. Wrench chirruped and cooed, reaching his hands out to them, tears once again filling his optics. The Autobot reluctantly set him down; Barricade glowered in distaste, then blinked as the Sparkling ran to the two humans and wrapped them in a hug, which they returned with coos and murmurs, rubbing his back gently, calming him down.

"It's okay, Wrench," Billy said soothingly. "It's okay. Are you hungry, little guy?" Wrench nodded with a sniffle, and Billy left to the garage. C.J. cooed and rocked the little robot gently, humming and holding him tightly. It wasn't as nice as the Autobots purring and rocking, Wrench realized, but it was still nice, and much more familiar. Billy returned with a full car battery, which Wrench snatched before sitting down with happy clicks, popping the jumper cable into his mouth and sucking hungrily.

"That explains why he hasn't starved to death, at least," Barricade said; his red optics narrowed at the two humans, jealous of their obvious closeness to the tiny Sparkling. "Where did you flesh bags find the Sparkling?" He demanded, aiming his cannon at the two. Instantly, Wrench began to wail, food forgotten at the sight of his family being threatened.

"Barricade!" the Autobot shouted, smacking the black and white Decepticon upside the head, before reaching down and rubbing the Sparkling's head and back with blunt fingertips, cooing softly, soothingly. When Wrench returned to his meal, sniffling and red eyes uncertain, the smaller 'bot turned furious blue optics on the Decepticon, who scowled at him.

"Ya don't threaten ah Sparkling's caretaker's, ya stupid 'Con!" he hissed at the bigger robot, feeling unusually protective as programs he didn't even know he had kicked in, demanding he comfort and protect the Sparkling, keep it happy and well fed. He huffed at the Decepticon, and leaned down, offering a finger to the humans to shake.

"Hey," he greeted. "I'm Jazz, Autobot under Optimus Prime. This clunker beside meh is Barricade, idiot Decepticon under Megatron." Barricade growled at him and jabbed him in the side with a sharp claw, making Jazz yelp and jerk, giving the bigger 'bot a furious look. Wrench giggled and clicked in amusement, sucking on the half-empty battery. Barricade smirked at him; Jazz shook his head.

"We'd like ta know where ya found tha lil' guy," he continued. C.J. boldly took his offered fingertip in both hands, shaking firmly.

"I'm C.J. and this is my best bud, Billy," Billy nodded, keeping an eye on Wrench. "And we found Wrench a couple of months ago. We were, like, working in the garage on a totally messed up Mustang, when this, like, flaming ball of fire fell outta the sky, ya know? And I was all like 'Dude!' and Billy was all like, 'Whoa!' and we went ta see what it was, ya know?" Billy broke in quickly as C.J. practically bounced in place.

"And we found this, like, big crater and Wrench here," he rubbed the Sparkling's head gently, making him coo and thrum in pleasure, optics shuttering happily. "Was at the bottom, but he got scared and started crying, so we had to, like, lift him out of the hole with the tow truck, 'cause he couldn't and he was, like, too young to walk yet or something. We brought him back here and gave him a battery, 'cause that's the only thing we could think of to feed him, and he's been here, helping us fix up cars since!" Billy smiled down at the robot who thrummed and purred happily as he finished the battery.

"We taught him to walk ourselves!" C.J. announced proudly, smiling; Billy grinned.

"And he taught us how to dodge flying wrenches," he said dryly; C.J. smiled sheepishly.

"How was I supposed ta know he'd throw it at us when he got mad?" Billy rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Dude," he said. "It's, like, common sense! Babies throw things. They hit people with stuff. It's natural. You gave him a big ass wrench and _of course_ he's gonna throw it!" C.J. laughed sheepishly and Wrench laughed and chirped happily, picking up his wrench and banging it loudly on the dead battery, cooing.

"Only Sparklings' who've just been turned online can't walk on their own," Barricade murmured, eying the tiny robot as he blissfully continued to bang his wrench on the battery. Jazz shifted slightly, reminded of a certain medic back at the base, and then gave the Decepticon beside him a wary looked.

"Maybe we should get this lil' guy ta tha Base." Barricade nodded, then scowled.

"He's a Decepticon," he said stiffly. "He's going to _our_ Base." Jazz's optics narrowed dangerously.

"He's not leavin' meh sight, Barricade," he growled; Barricade's red optics narrowed and his engine growled back angrily, deep in his chest.

"He's not leaving mine either, Autobot." Jazz glowered furiously.

"_Our_ Base is closer an' has better equipment ta take care of him with!" He declared; Barricade snarled.

"_Our_ Base has 'bot's of his own type so that he has an opportunity to learn and interact with his own kind!" he barked back; Jazz hissed and sat up.

"He is _not_ goin' ta whatever slag-heap ya Decepticons have managed ta scrape together!" he snapped furiously; Barricade snarled right back

"And he's not going to your human-infested Base where he can be gaped at and experimented on by fleshbags!" Jazz recoiled with a shocked look.

"Do ya think we'd allow that?" he whispered, appalled. "Do ya honestly believe we'd let 'em hurt ah _Sparkling_? Even if he _is_ ah Decepticon?" Barricade shifted, looking away. He found himself feeling guilty for insinuating it now; the horror and hurt in the other robot's whispers digging at his Spark far worse than any of his comments and jeers during battle had.

"Maybe not," he finally conceded, then glared. "But I'm still not letting him go there without protection!" he declared; Jazz stared at him, and then finally nodded.

"Give meh a moment ta talk ta Optimus 'bout it," he said, sitting back and shuttering his optics. "Watch tha Sparkling," he muttered, and slipped into the mental communications part of his motherboard, signaling to his leader. Barricade eyed him, then looked down at the Sparkling. Wrench stared up at him with huge optics, startled. Then he smiled and cooed, lifting his arms up towards the Decepticon, cooing happily. Surprised, the black and white robot carefully picked him up and cradled him in the palm of his servos. He lifted the other one and used a single finger to drag his claw ever-so-lightly over the Sparkling's stomach.

Wrench squealed and fell back, writhing and smacking at the digit as he laughed and whistled. Barricade smiled slightly and continued to tickle the little robot. He didn't see Jazz open one optic to watch him. The usually cruel and rough Decepticon cooed and murmured to the Sparkling, smiling when the green and silver 'bot caught his finger and gummed it, thrumming and clicking happily. He chuckled and used his thumb to rub the baby 'bot's side, making him wiggle happily.

"Optimus says ya can come ta tha Base," Jazz said abruptly; Barricade's head jerked up, and, embarrassed, he started to pull his fingers back, but Wrench held onto them tightly, clicked and chirping as he gnawed on the fingers harmlessly. Not wanting to hurt the baby 'bot, the Decepticon surrendered with an embarrassed huff. Jazz found himself smiling slightly.

"Ya have ta vow not ta attack anybody on Base who isn't attempting ta hurt the Sparkling, an as ah result, ya wont be attacked by any Autobot." Barricade nodded.

"I vow not to attack any fleshling or Autobot that doesn't threaten the Sparkling," he said dutifully, grimacing at the nasty taste the words left in his mouth. Wrench cooed and released his hand, reaching for Jazz. The Autobot moved closer and gently reached for the Sparkling. As soon as he could, Wrench grabbed the silver robots servos and pulled it over him, cuddling firmly into Barricades palm and yawning, wrapping an arm around the Decepticons middle finger, so that the two enemies cradled him in they cupped palms together. Jazz found his face heating up slightly, the robotic equivalent of a blush. Barricade's sensors told him of this, and he gave the Autobot a smirk.

"What's the matter, Autobot?" he drawled, smirking. "Not used to being treated like a Co-Creator?" Jazz's faceplates heated up even more at the insinuation, and he cleared his throat.

"Shut up, Barricade," he grumbled, scowling. Barricade's smirk widened and he chuckled darkly, amused and looking the other 'bot over obviously. He wasn't exactly unhappy to be a Co-Creator for the Sparkling with the smaller Autobot. Jazz wasn't exactly unattractive, so if the little one wanted them to play the robotic equivalent of the human 'mommy and daddy', he wouldn't object.

"We need to be going," Jazz said; Barricade nodded, still smirking. They gently set the sleepy Sparkling down, and transformed into their alt forms. C.J. and Billy hugged Wrench and said goodbye, sad they were loosing the little 'bot, but happy that he'd be going with his family. The 'bot climbed sleepily into Barricade's backseats, curling up and falling asleep as the police car's engine purred soothingly. Jazz flashed his headlights and sped away, Barricade right behind him, lights flashing and siren silent as they drove towards the NEST headquarters.

**Four: Meeting The Family**

Jazz and Barricade swerved into the Autobot headquarters an hour later. Jazz returned to his robot form and knelt down. Barricade opened his backdoor and the smaller robot reached in and gently pulled the sleeping Sparkling out, cradling him to his chest as the Decepticon transformed. Wrench chirruped in his sleep and snuggled close, fingers clinging to the Autobots chest plate instinctively. Barricade found himself moving to stand protectively behind the smaller robot as Jazz led the way into the headquarters.

Optimus Prime was waiting for them, Ironhide at his side. The weapons expert was glowering angrily, obviously not happy with the presence of a Decepticon in their Base. Jazz winced slightly as he felt Barricade stiffen behind him. The Decepticon and the Weapons Expert glared at each other, tension rising.

And said tension woke Wrench, making him look around and whimper, clinging to Jazz and staring at the two unknown and much larger robots fearfully. Jazz set his engine purring, shifting slightly so he could focus his attention on the distressed Sparkling. But Wrench would have none of that. He opened his mouth and began to wail, whistling and chirping in fearful distress. Barricade instantly lost interest in Ironhide and moved so he was standing behind the smaller Autobot, reaching around and rubbing the small Sparkling with a low thrum of his own engine, the vibrations rolling through Jazz, making him shiver slightly in delight before he could stop himself.

Wrench turned and latched onto the finger, keening and whirring in distress. Carefully, Jazz shifted, having to press against Barricade in order to safely pass the baby robot to the Decepticon. Barricade thrummed even harder, volume still low, and Jazz found himself staying close and reveling in the soothing vibrations even as Wrench calmed to soft clicks and chirps, sniffling and cuddling into the black and white Decepticon.

"Easy, little one," The Decepticon soothed quietly. "Easy." Wrench nodded and sniffled, rubbing his optics with his fists, as usual. "That's it, Wrench," Barricade soothed, pulling the tiny 'bot away from his chest to sit, cradled in his palms. Jazz handed the tiny robot his wrench, making the Sparkling instantly brighten and babble happily at the silver robot, who smiled warmly at the baby Decepticon.

**A/N:** And THATS when my Bunny ran off to the Congo and got eaten by a gigantic Howler Monkey.

**R&R**


	9. When Problems Arise

**A/N:** Right, as you have already guessed, I am NOT Jim Butcher, nor am I J.K. Rowling. Therefore, I CANNOT own anything, and am only borrowing these brilliant peoples characters (without permission, or with permission, who _knows_) and twisting them to my own delightful devices for my own, and your enjoyment. So, I suggest you sit back, relax, and Review.

_**COLLAR RULES**_

1. Harry Dresden has to take Harry Potter in as his Son.

2. You can choose between these two options, but ONLY these two options. Dresden/Thomas, OR Dresden/Marcone. I Love the former, but want more of the latter, because BAD GUYS NEED SMEXY WIZARD LOVIN' TOO!

3. Potter has to be wanted by Mab as a plaything or pet, and Dresden has to protect him any way he can.

4. The Merlin has to have a soft-spot for Potter (make up an excuse, though I was thinking something along the lines of Merlin being Lilly's maternal/paternal great-times-# Grandfather, but you get to choose whatever hits your fancy)

5. Potter can understand Mouse & Mister & other "Familiars" or creatures that Dresden runs into that don't speak any human tongue, and he still has Parsletongue.

6. Voldemort has to get eaten by He Who Walks Behind… I don't know why. I just thought it would be funny if Potter & Voldy met, Potter went "I don't like you… Bye-bye!" and HWWB just slurped the Dark Lord through the ground via shadow…

I have a weird imagination sometimes, okay? So Sue me. And this is short, so DOUBLE sue me.

**R&R!**

**When Problems Arise**

**One**

Harry Dresden, the only Wizard in the phonebook, tossed his gray Warden's robe into the back of the _Blue Beetle_, and scowled as he slumped into the drivers seat and screeched out of the warehouse drive. He needed a drink, and he needed to put some space between himself and the horrors of the White Council meeting. A sixteen-year-old executed because when he came into his power, he discovered he could make the head cheerleader his girlfriend just by fiddling with her mind.

Grimacing, remembering the sobs and abrupt silence as the terrified boy was decapitated, he didn't pay attention. A scream had his head jerking up, his eyes locking onto the wide, terrified green of a small boy, no more then six, milliseconds before he ran him over. Immediately, deathly pale, he slammed on the breaks and jerked the wheel, spinning. The Blue Beetle slammed to a stop and Harry trembled, shocked and horrified. There was nothing in the street, no blood, no body; nothing that signified the child was even there. A whimper had him freezing, and he slowly lifted his head and looked in his rearview mirror.

Wide, bright green eyes once more met his, and he turned his head to stare at the little boy who had appeared in his backseat. He was small, emaciated, and wearing clothes much too big for his fragile-looking body. His hair was short, black, and stood up in every direction, except for thick bangs that covered his forehead. A vicious circle of bruising necklaced his small neck, and his right cheek was bruised, his lip split, and he cradled his left arm close to his chest.

"Stars and stones," Harry breathed; the boy flinched and cowered back, suddenly looking insubstantial and nearly invisible, eyes shut tight.

"Not here," he muttered in a high, British-accented voice. "Not here, not here, not here," he chanted, growing even more insubstantial. Startled, Harry reached back and gently grabbed the young boy's right arm, making him come sharply back into reality. His eyes snapped open and he froze, panting in terror and refusing to look at the wizard.

"Easy, kid," Harry managed, making his voice as soothing and careful as possible. "Easy, I'm not gonna hurt you. Easy, easy," he crooned, as if talking to a skittish animal. "My name's Harry, what's yours?" The kid hesitated, glancing up at him through his bangs.

"M'relatives call me Freak," he whispered timidly. Harry bit back his sudden rage, and took a deep breath.

"You're not a freak," Harry told him firmly; the boy gave him uncertain eyes. "You're just special, and can do special things. Like me." Harry murmured a spell, and his fingertip lit in a small flame. The boy froze, eyes huge with awe as he stared at the flickering flame. Tentatively, he held up his own hand and frowned, face scrunching cutely. A large ball of flame exploded into life over his palm, tightly controlled and intense. Harry blinked, startled, before giving the uncertain boy an encouraging smile.

"See?" he said cheerfully. "You and me, we're alike." The little boy smiled hesitantly, and then wiggled his fingers; the ball of flame disappeared in a small plume of smoke. "Do you know where you live, little guy?" he asked gently; the boy frowned.

"Number four," he replied.

"Number four, where?" Harry asked patiently; the boy blinked.

"I dunno, sir," he replied. "Somewhere in Britain."


	10. Feudal Dreams

**A/N:** I Don't Own Buffy or Inuyasha. Deal with it, because I already have (sulks).

_Note – _To the muse who helped me start this and then left me hanging high-and-dry, I say only these two words: Fuck you. I was actually really interested in this fic, and really getting into it, and then BAM! You DITCHED me! (Pouts) Ah, oh well…

_**COLLAR RULES~!**_

1. Xander/Sesshomaru is a must.

2. Parental!Overprotactive!Almost-Multiple-personality-disorder!Xander

3. Some Willow!Bashing required due to her magical abilities, some Buffy!Bashing required because I just did not like her while she was blond (though she got better as a brunet), and-so-on-and-so-forth.

4. Inuyasha!Bashing by Sesshomaru & Koga and Seshy!Bashing & Koga!Bashing by Inu!

5. Puppies Required. Therefore, smex is required. Lemon can be in a different, more appropriate site if you'd prefer. I just want some Xander/Sesshy action, and Xander to get some Mpreg going on, because it's always amusing...and nummiful, but that's besides the point!

**R&R!**

**Feudal Dreams**

**Prologue**

Xander Harris watched as his best friend gather her supplies. He really didn't want her doing any magic on him, but she'd used the Puppy-Dog-Eyes-of-Doomage, and he'd caved. It didn't matter that this spell was supposed to help him find his "True-Love", which he didn't think possible. It _did_ matter that Willow had already replaced half the ingredients with different ones that supposedly "Worked the same way".

"I don't think this is safe, Wil's," he spoke up, and the red head shushed him, and began the spell. Xander grimaced. _Of course she ignored you,_ a voice purred at the back of his head. _You're expendable. It doesn't matter if it's safe or not. You don't matter. _Xander had tried to smother this voice as much as possible, but the Hyena refused to be smothered. The damn thing had taken up residence in the back of his mind. The soldier was in another corner, mentally sharpening his knife and shining his boots. Xander sighed, annoyed, and focused on Willow.

A tingly feeling began in his chest, spreading throughout his body. Xander wiggled in his seat, giggling. The Hyena and the Soldier both focused, and came forward. They sensed the magic, and were curious. Xander's giggles got higher in pitch, and the Hyena surged forward, turning the giggles into it's own insane cackle. His eyes flashed green, before gold light surrounded him and he disappeared.

"Uh-oh," Willow said, eyes wide. She bit her lip and looked down. "Maybe I shouldn't have replaced Nutmeg with Cinnamon?" She got to her feet and hurried to the phone. Giles was going to be _sooooo_ mad at her!

**1. Changes**

Xander woke slowly, groaning as sunlight slammed into his eyes, making his head pound viciously. Sitting up, he staggered to his feet; hand out to catch his balance. Looking around through squinting eyes, he cursed softly, scowling. Willow's spell had obviously messed up, and sent him somewhere. Stumbling over to a stream, he fell to his knees and splashed the icy water in his face.

"Better," he muttered, blinking the water from his eyes…

And freezing.

"Oh for fucks sake!" He exclaimed, scowling down at his reflection and feeling the smugness radiating from a certain creature in his head. He had changed. A lot.

His dark brown hair was spiky and silky looking, and was now a mixture of browns and blondes, with black spots. Literal spots. His skin was pale; any baby fat he'd had left had changed into lithe muscle. His fingers, he saw, were tipped it black claws, as were his bare toes, he noticed. He wasn't wearing shoes. He _was_ wearing some strange armor and furs that were tannish-brown. They looked good against his skin, felt good too. Shaking his head, he looked at his reflection again. His face was narrower, more feminine He had green slashes on his cheeks, from his hairline toward his nose, slanted slightly downward. And on his forehead was a black crescent moon, with the rounded part aimed down, toward his nose, and the points up. Above that was a small green diamond, floating between the points. His chocolate eyes were green, now, a deep, algae-green. He saw some brown and blue flickering through them, but they where small. _And_ he had pointed ears.

"Damn it!" He cursed, sitting back sharply. A vicious pain shot up his spine and he yelped, leaping to his feet and whirling around, eyes narrowed furiously, hand on his butt. He froze when something furry trailed across the back of said hand. Turning his head, he stared at his reflection from behind. There, swaying gently from its place at the end of his spine, was a foot-and-a-half-long tail, the same colors as his hair. He stared at it in disbelief as it swayed lazily.

"Someone hates me," he announced, then looked up at the sky. "Did I murder thousands of children? Torture cute little puppies and kittens? Set a school for the mentally handicapped on fire and roast marshmallows? What did I do to deserve this?" He demanded, scowling; then he sighed and shook his head. "Never mind. I don't want to know." Sighing, he looked around, then picked a direction and started walking. "Maybe I'll find a village or something," he muttered, sighing. The soldier was demanding that he pay attention to his surroundings, and the Hyena was content to sit in smug satisfaction in the back of his mind.

Xander gave some control over to the soldier, and he was soon leaping from branch to branch in the trees, his black claws digging in lightly as he ran on four legs. The sound of drunken laughter and a little girls cries of fear and pain made his ears twitch, and he swerved viciously towards the sounds, green eyes narrowing. Moments later he paused, staring down at the sight in the clearing below.

Three men, drunk and obviously bandits or robbers of some sort, were jeering and leering at a little girl who couldn't be more then ten. She had a bruise on her cheek, a split lip, and her pretty pink dress (_Kimono,_ the Soldier whispered) was stained and ripped. She was crying, trying to get away, but one of her legs was hurt and couldn't hold much of her weight. Slowly, Xander bared his fangs, eyes gleaming with rage as one of the men reached for the girl with one hand and his crotch with the other.

Xander didn't remember moving. He was just suddenly there, between the girl and the man (_Human_, the Hyena growled with disgust), and the hand that had been reached for the girl was rolling on the ground a few feet away, blood spurting from the stump that was left. The man screamed and fell back, shock starting already to set in as his blood continued to run. His friends stared in shock, and Xander growled, baring his teeth, green eyes gleaming furiously.

"Who the hell are you?" One of the men demanded, and the two of them pulled out swords. Xander sneered.

"I'm clearly the better person here, besides the cub," he said harshly, claws flexing eagerly. "And you are cowards who pick on children because their too fucking stupid to get a real job and a real woman," he taunted; the second man snarled.

"I'll show you coward!" he shouted, lunging forward; the Soldier kicked in, making Xander turn sideways, dodging the human's rush. His hand locked on his sword arm, twisting sharply, breaking the limb with ease. His second hand lunged forward, fingers pressed together, and sliced into his throat. Twisting his body, he tossed the mans body towards his companions, eyes gleaming. The third was going to run, he knew, and his body blurred, appearing behind him. Taking his head in his hands, he yanked left, hard, snapping his neck and killing him. Stepping over the bodies, he walked over to the little girl and knelt. She cowered away from him, brown eyes filled with fearful tears. He smiled at her, and spoke softly, soothingly.

"It's okay, cub," he said gently, kindly. "I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Xander, what's yours?" She sniffled looking at him warily, but with a little less fear.

"Rin," she said softly; Xander smiled.

"Rin tin bin kin fin shin in," he rhymed. Then frowned. "And the only thing I can think of that rhymes with _my _name is flounder, and that doesn't even rhyme that well. _And_ it's a fish. Ew," he wrinkled his nose, and Rin gave a soft giggle, watching him with less and less fear. He smiled warmly at her, and reached forward, gently wiping away her tears.

"What are you?" she asked uncertainly, then her eyes had fear in them again. "Are you a wolf demon?" she asked, scared; Xander shook his head quickly, sitting down in front of her, making himself even smaller and blocking her view of the bodies.

"I'm a," he paused, then blinked. "I'm a Hyena Demon," he told her, mentally glowering at the Hyena, who cackled gleefully. "What are _you_, little cub?" He asked teasingly; Rin giggled again, fear leaving her once more.

"Rin is Rin, silly!" she said; Xander pouted.

"I'm not silly!" he declared; she giggled again.

"Yes you are!" She said; he poked her stomach.

"Nuh-uh!" he said childishly; she poked him back.

"Uh-huh!" she responded.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"You're silly!"

"You are!" Xander grinned at her.

"We can be silly together," he said with a firm nod; Rin clapped her hands together, giggling.

"Okay," she said; Xander smiled at her, softening as his heart warmed to the little girl. He loved children.

"Now," he said, looking her over. "Let's get you fixed up, shall we?" He nodded at her right leg. "What's wrong with that, hmm?" Rin moved her Kimono a bit, exposing the leg. Her foot had a nasty cut across the bottom, red and infected looking. Her ankle was also a little swollen, and some thin bruises branched from between her big toe and second toe, to the sides of her foot. Xander had seen a similar bruise when someone had stepped on the back of Willow's sandal and she'd tripped. The eighteen-year-old took her foot gently into his hands, lifting it so he could look at the cut better.

"Rin was playing in the bushes," Rin told him, "And Master Jakan told Rin to be careful, and Rin slipped and fell down a hill, and into a river, and it took Rin away!" There were miserable tears in her eyes. "Rin's sandal got stuck and yanked off, and when Rin got out of the river, Rin stepped on a really sharp rock." Xander made a sympathetic sound and gently set her foot down again. Standing, he trotted over to the bandits and went through their things. Finding a bag of what had to be medical supplies, the boy-turned-demon returned to Rin.

"I'm going to clean that wound, cub," he told her gently, bending down and picking her up carefully. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung, eyes startled. "We've got to go to the river to wet the bandages," he explained, shifting her so that she was on his back, piggy-back-style. "You holding on tight?" he asked; felt her nod against his neck, her black hair slipping over his shoulder. "Alright then, off we go!" He declared, lunging forward, the world blurring slightly as he ran quickly. Rin held tightly, and Xander followed his ears and nose more then his eyes, listening and scenting for the river.

He found it five minutes later. Setting Rin carefully down on a rock, he had her put her feet in the water. She winced and bit her lip in pain, eyes tearing up. Xander sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, purring deeply to comfort her. She sniffled and snuggled into his side, and he kissed her head gently, before pulling away and opening the medical bag. He pulled her feet out of the water and into his lap.

"Now," he said easily, scrounging through the bag, he found a small jar with a lotion in it. He sniffed it; the Hyena said it was for wounds. Nodding, he quickly rinsed his claws, and scooped some of the lotion out of the jar. "This might sting," he told Rin, before gently applying it to the infected cut. She gasped and whimpered, yanking on her foot instinctively; Xander held it firmly and blew on the cut until she calmed down, blinking away tears.

Xander carefully wrapped the foot with bandages, also wrapping the ankle in case it was sprained. He then nodded and smiled at the little girl. She smiled back shyly.

"You'll have some trouble walking for a bit," he told her. "But I'll stay around until we can find your parent's, okay?" Rin blinked up at him.

"Rin doesn't have parent's," she told him; he frowned. "Rin stays with Lord Sesshomaru and Master Jakan!" Harry blinked, then shrugged, smiling.

"Then I'll stay here until we find them, okay?" She nodded happily; Xander ruffled her head. It looked like he'd be Babysitting-Xander for a while, but he didn't mind. He liked kids.

They were fun.

**2. Discoveries**

"Rin is tired, Xander-kun," Rin announced and, indeed, she sounded exhausted, though she hadn't left his back for longer then it took for her to go to the restroom. He had taken to carrying her on his back and leaping from tree to tree idly; moving up-river, since she said the current had dragged her down. The Hyena Demon nodded and hopped down to a small clearing, setting the small girl down on the soft moss after he had sniffed around to make sure there was nothing harmful there. Nodding to himself, he went about going through bushes, snatching sticks and thorn branches, and making a pseudo-barrier around them.

Nodding again, knowing it wouldn't keep out anything more then a persistent animal or dumb human/demon, he settled down next to the girl. He stared at her; his heart warming and a soft smile curling his lips as he saw she was already asleep, curled up on the ground. The smile turned into a worried frown when he noticed she was shivering. The need to protect her, from both the elements and any dangers that would happen upon them while asleep, made the Hyena in his head stand and move forward, bringing with her a rolling, black energy.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he muttered, before the rolling energy leaked out of his skin. He shuddered, and then sighed as his eyes slid closed at the feeling. It was like stepping into a well air-conditioned house after being outside during Sunnydale summer. Relieving as well as refreshing. With a happy sigh, he opened his eyes halfway and watched as brown/blond fur grew out of his skin, spiky and soft, with a splattering of black spots. He watched, relaxed, as his hands and feet turned into massive paws, and his body grew larger and larger. Closing his eyes for a few seconds, he waited until the feeling disappeared before he opened his eyes again and looked down.

He was now a twenty-something-foot-tall Hyena, with heavy muscles and large claws. Licking his black nose with a rough tongue, he lay down carefully and yawned, before leaning over and biting the back of Rin's dress carefully, lifting her up and over until she was cradled against his chest on his crossed forelimbs. She yawned and turned, snuggling into his fur and falling into a peaceful sleep. Letting out a soft croon, he nuzzled her once, before laying his head down over her, so that she was safely cocooned. She was barely longer then his jaw from joint across to joint, the top half of her head poking out. Smiling softly, Xander closed his glowing green eyes. _I'll freak out about this later_, he assured the Hyena and Soldier, before he drifted to sleep.

He woke up several hours later to shouting and the sounds of battle. Yawning, he lifted his large head, frowning. Rin sat up and yawned cutely, rubbing her eyes and looking around sleepily. Suddenly she paused, looked up at Xander, and stared, confused.

"Xander-Kun?" she asked; Xander smiled and nodded. Suddenly, she smiled. "Fluffy!" She cried out, throwing her arms around his neck. She couldn't wrap her arms around it; it was too thick. Letting out a high-pitched giggle, he smiled, then frowned and lifted his head, as the sounds of fighting got closer. Rin listened to, and her face suddenly lit up with recognition.

"That is Inuyasha!" She cried, scrambling down off of his crossed forelegs. "He is Lord Sesshomaru's loud half-brother! He can help find Lord Sesshomaru!"

"Cub, wait!" Xander called, but she had already limped/ran into the trees. Cursing softly under his breath, he leaped to his paws and crouched, before jumping nimbly over the trees. He landed firmly, in time to see a silver-haired teen in all red with a _big_ sword send a creepy-looking Praying Mantis-like demon flying. There were a good seven other Praying Mantis demons, all female, and they were attacking the silver-haired half-demon (as Xander just realized), as well as a monk guy, a demon huntress, a flaming cat, a little fox kit (the Hyena gave a mental snarl at that), and a girl dressed in a modern-day school-girl uniform. Just as he landed, one of the bug demons attacked the girl, who had dropped her bow.

"Inuyasha!" the girl screamed; Xander lunged forward and smacked a massive paw into the bug-demon, sending it flying into the demon that had been attacking the fox-kit. He glanced down at the girl, who stared up at him, eyes huge.

"Xander-kun!" Rin screamed, and Xander whirled and lunged forward, snarling harshly and sinking his teeth into the Mantis that had been about to stab the little girl. He shook his head viciously and sent the now-dead bug demon flying to land on the ground and roll away. He snarled at the other Mantis Demons, demon blood dripping from his fangs as he stood over Rin protectively.

He continued to snarl at them as he gently nudged Rin over towards the schoolgirl. The Mantis Demons hissed and clicked at him; he let out a challenging cackle, crouching over the two girls as the schoolgirl wrapped Rin in her arms. The fox-kit joined them, and Xander found the flaming cat at his right and the demon huntress on it's back. The silver-haired half-demon landed on the other side, huge sword ready. Hissing, the Mantis Demons flew away as fast as they could, and Xander cackled in triumph, before shaking viciously and spitting out a mouthful of demon blood with a grimace. He turned and glance at Rin to make sure she was okay, before black energy rolled around him and the Hyena pulled back. Closing his eyes, he opened them after a few seconds, and found himself once more in his humanoid body.

"Xander-Kun!" Rin cried out, tearing herself away from the schoolgirl and throwing her arms around his neck when Xander knelt. He hugged her close, murmuring to her and hiding his face in her neck. Suddenly he pulled back and gave her a stern glare.

"Rin-chan, you must _never_ run off like that!" He said sternly. "You could have gotten seriously hurt, and then I'd never forgive myself, understand?" He wiped away her tears softly. "Oh, cub," he sighed, pulling her back into his arms and petting her head. "I was so scared you'd get hurt," he murmured as she sniffled and cried, clinging to him. He looked at the schoolgirl. "Are you okay, miss?" he asked politely; she nodded, looking startled. He nodded and glanced at the fox-kit, who clung to her and stared at him, ears quivering with curiosity. "And you, kit?" Xander asked with infinite gentleness; the little fox blushed and nodded; looking determined and shy at the same time. Xander nodded. "Good."

"Who the hell are you?" The silver-haired half-demon snapped, gold eyes angry and bright; Xander eyed him.

"I'm Xander," he said carefully, shifting slightly so that more of his body was between the loud half-breed and Rin. She sniffled and peeked over his shoulder.

"Xander-Kun saved Rin," she announced uncertainly. "Rin has lost Master Jakan and Lord Sesshomaru, and Rin needs Inuyasha's help finding them!" She ducked down when he scowled; Xander bared his teeth at him, green eyes flashing, but refrained from growling his displeasure. You shouldn't treat cubs that way.


	11. Dragon Fly

**A/N:** I own nothing of Temeraire. I own only OC's and personal Dragon Breed.

_Note – _This actually started out as a Buffy/Temeraire x-over, with an All Human AU in the Temeraire world, and Alexander Heartford was (you guessed it) Xander… But then I changed my mind and decided to just go with my own thing and make it just Temeraire. I MIGHT rewrite it as a Buffy/Temeraire thing, but probably not.

_**COLLAR RULES**_

1. Kinjewel is the leader in the relationship. Alex is his CHARGE and, therefore, is to follow his orders ultimately.

2. Yongxing is to live and flee China to join Napoleon with Lien.

3. Lawrence is to take Kinjewel & Alex with him & Temeraire to France on his "Traitor" mission to give the French dragons the cure (I clapped for him at that part, despite being able to understand _why_ the British Government did what they did. My Morals are stranger then theirs were, I suppose…).

4. Napoleon (Dom)/Lawrence(sub)/Yongxing(Dom). That is just a pairing that I have ALWAYS wanted to see written in a what-if scenario to if Yongxing survived and fled to France, and was there when Lawrence took the cure, and he and Napoleon decided to try a different way to _persuade_ the Captain to stay… No one's done it so far, and anyone can use this Collar Rule as a secondary Prompt without adopting this story, and PLEASE write me a one-shot, if they'd like! (Puppy-dog-eyes) A sordid, _detailed_, yummy little one-shot? Or chaptered fic?

Please?

**R&R!**

**Dragon Fly**

**Prologue**

Six-year-old Alexander Heartford, also known as Alex, watched silently as his house burned, tears streaming silently down his face. His parents had been too drunk to get out. He sat now, a blanket around his shoulders, soot not hiding the vicious bruises that he bore like medals. The man who sat beside him, arm around his shoulders, was a local farmer who had helped the boy out a time or two before.

"It'll be okay, lad," the farmer murmured. "Ya can come an' live wit' me an' Ol' Jack! Tha' dog does luv ya a far sight more den 'e does me!" Alex sniffled and looked up at the farmer as the local police and handymen worked hard at putting the fire out.

"Promise?" ha asked meekly; the farmer, known as Arthur Digeon, grinned.

"Aye, lad," he said, hugging him close. "An' ya can ask all ya like abou' me brother tha' was in the Aerial Corps. I know ye like those stories. Abou' 'im an' 'is dragon, Sphirenexus." Alex sniffled and nodded shyly. "Than le's be goin', den, eh?" Alex once more nodded, and moved in with the old farmer.

He spent the next ten years working on the farm, when his life would once more be changed. This time, there was no fire. This time, there was no smoke to warn him. This time, there was only a lost lamb, and he only had an oak walking stick.

He should have just stayed home…

**One**

"Here sheep!" Alex called as he trotted around another thorn bush, his old oak staff pushing away a grasping limb. This was the third time this particular lamb had managed to escape, and it was seriously beginning to irk the young farmhand. He hopped over a fallen log and strained his ears. He caught bleating farther in, and hurried towards it. He fell in the mud twice, but managed to get close enough to spot the lambs white coat, right before it disappeared into a cave.

"Blasted thing," he muttered, running over. He ducked into the cave. "Here sheep, sheep, sheep," he crooned out, looking around carefully. He squinted, and saw movement up ahead. "Little sheep?" he called softly, uncertainly. He hoped he hadn't wandered into a bear's den…

He let out a startled scream when five large, scaly fingers, tipped in vicious talons, wrapped around his middle and yanked him in. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!_ His mind screamed as he found himself staring into large, red eyes, slit pupils wide and locked on him. _Dragon! Feral Dragon!_ He whimpered, hazel eyes huge, unable to scream again. The feline-like face that stared at him was covered in pure gold scales. There was age in its eyes, age that was almost more breathtaking than those sparkling scales.

"Who are you?" The dragon asked hoarsely, voice accented, sharp and exotic, but also definitely masculine. Alex swallowed.

"Alex," he squeaked, then cleared his throat. "My name's Alex," he managed to say, voice strained but clear. The dragon eyed him for a few seconds.

"You will do," he announced, setting Alex on the ground. The sixteen-year-old looked up at him as the gold dragon straightened and gently nudged him with the curve of his claw, towards the light. Alex hurriedly left the cave, stumbling out into the light. He rubbed his eyes and winced, the sudden light stinging slightly, before whirling around and staring at the cave.

The gold dragon walked out with feline grace, shaking his shiny gold body, sending shimmering reflections of the sunlight in thousands of directions. He sat up and curled a long tail around his clawed feet; the red fish-like fins on the end of it flaring like a ladies fan, once, before settling. He towered over Alex's five-foot-five height by a good twenty feet, give or take. His wings spread; exposing blood colored membranes. He shook them firmly, and then folded them back against his sides. Small spikes, a darker gold then the rest of him, started on his chest and curled around in both directions, staying in two rows before becoming one again about a foot past his wing-joints.

"Um," Alex said, shifting on his feet, still scared though much less now that the dragon had apparently decided not to eat him. "I don't know what exactly you want from me," he managed, holding his walking stick with both hands, fingers nervously tapping it, as his large hazel eyes remained locked on the dragon.

"I have decided," the gold dragon rumbled, "after several days of considering, that you, Alex, shall be my charge." Alex blinked slowly, confused. "I shall teach you to ride and shall protect you, and you shall name me and tell me about the world you live in." Alex stared at him, eyes huge. "And I shall remain a secret until I deem it necessary to expose myself," the dragon added, red eyes narrowing dangerously. Alex gulped and nodded rapidly. "We have a deal then?" The dragon asked, before nodding. "Very good. We shall shake on it, yes?" His tail came forward and Alex watched in scared fascination as the red fins folded, again making him think of a ladies fan, and disappeared. He gulped, and wrapped his hand around the tail. They shook, and Alex gripped his walking stick firmly, shifting nervously. The dragon watched him, head tilted to the side.

"If I am frightening you," he said calmly. "I can become a more… restrained, size." The dragon didn't wait for him to say anything and, before the teen's shocked eyes, his scales shifted and the dragon began to shrink. When his scales settled again, he was the size of a large dog, tail once more wrapped around his taloned feet.

"That's…" Alex gaped. "Fascinating," he finally murmured, uncertainly reaching forward to touch the dragon. He moved his head, pressing into Alex's hand and flaring red, fin-like ears, letting out a throaty purring rumble. Alex carefully brought his other hand in, letting the walking stick lean against his shoulder, marveling at the surprisingly soft feeling scales.

"Alex," the dragon murmured, opening his red eyes to slits to peer up at the boy, who was rubbing his neck gently.

"Hmm?" the boy replied, eyes locked on his trailing fingers, mesmerized.

"May I have a name, now?" Alex blinked, focusing on the dragon, who watched him now with amusement.

"Oh," he said, blushing. "Erm…" he frowned, thinking. "How about… Kinjewel?" He asked. "Like kin and jewel as one word. The Family Jewels…" he muttered, with a mischievous grin. The dragon tilted his head, tail-tip twitching slightly in thought, before he nodded.

"I like it. I shall keep it." Alex nodded before clearing his throat and snatching up his walking stick.

"I have to head back home," he managed. "Unless you can tell me where my lost lamb went…?" he trailed off hopefully; Kinjewel pursed his lips, then nodded, flaring his wings and lifting into the air. He dove into cave, and, in moments, a terrified bleating was heard before he reappeared, lamb held carefully in his claws.

"Oh!" Alex exclaimed, startled, and then carefully took the terrified lamb into his arms. He looked at Kinjewel and beamed, momentarily loosing any fear he'd had of the dragon. Ever since Mr. Digeon had died and Mr. Forrester and his hag of a wife, cousins of the old man Alex saw as a father, had taken over, Alex had been on his toes. The two saw no problem in beating him if he made the smallest mistake, mostly because Mr. Digeon had left the farm to him for when he turned twenty-one, and so they couldn't sell it unless he handed over the deed.

Still beaming, Alex draped the lamb over the back of his neck, holding onto its feet firmly with one hand, before reaching out and scratching the dragon…no, _his_ dragon, under the chin with the other. Kinjewel flared his ear-fins (weird…) and purred happily, tilting his head like a kitten. Alex grinned, then patted him on the neck gently.

"I'll see you in a bit, okay?" he said; the dragon nodded, turned and, with another beautiful shifting of his scales, grew once more to his usual height, slipping back into his cave with an easy flick of his tail. Alex shook his head with a smile and started back towards the farm. When he reached it, Mr. Forrester was waiting, sneering at him.

"Finally found the damned thing, eh?" he jeered. "I could have found it twice as fast, but _someone_ had to do your job for you." Alex gritted his teeth, good mood evaporating.

"Yes, Mr. Forrester," he ground out, slinging the lamb gently off of his shoulders and into the pen. He felt something smack into his back and cling onto his shirt, but Mr. Forrester had had his back to the teen, so it couldn't have been him. He ignored it.

"Well," The balding, unpleasant man said cheerfully as he started to walk away, "I guess a night out watching the herd and no dinner will teach you to shirk your duties, hmm?" Alex's lips thinned and his teeth ground angrily, even though he knew by the look of the sky that it would rain horribly. Mr. Forrester walked around some nearby boulders and set off down the steep hill toward the farmhouse, leaving Alex to fume silently.

"Shall I eat him for you?" a familiar, exotic voice asked from behind him, and he froze as something scrambled up onto his shoulder, turning his head to stare in surprise. Kinjewel stared after Forrester with blood red eyes narrowed into slits, his gold body no bigger then a kitten.

"You'd probably get indigestion," Alex told him, examining his dragon now that he could see him so close. He blinked, surprised to notice that the gold dragons wings weren't, as he thought, merely made up of the gorgeous red membrane. When the kitten-sized dragon extended his wings with a soft, annoyed huff, the teen saw twelve thin, long spines hidden in each wing, making the appendages unbelievably flexible. It was, he reasoned, quite like being double-jointed… to the twelfth degree… He stopped trying to comprehend it.

"What should I do then?" Kinjewel asked, curling his tail around his talons and flaring the red fins at the end, broodingly staring in the direction Forrester had left. "I'll not stand that imbecile speaking in such a way to _my_ charge." He growled; Alex felt strangely touched at the possessiveness that the beast aimed at him, and smiled softly, reaching up to scratch him under his chin. Instantly, the miniature dragon set up a loud, happy rumbling that made Alex grin.

"Why don't we try flying," the boy suggested. "That way, we can watch the sheep as well. They don't seem likely to leave the pen since nighttime is coming and they're a lazy bunch," he added, which immediately made the gold dragon brighten.

"Excellent," he declared, leaping off of the boys shoulder and, with a shimmer of his scales, grew immediately to the size of a small horse. "We shall start small and work our way up, yes?" Alex nodded, but hesitated.

"Don't you need a harness?" he asked uncertainly; Kinjewel snorted and bared one sharp, curved fang in derision.

"That," he declared, "is a barbaric practice that the French and English and a few others do. I will not allow such a contraption to be placed upon my person." He gave the teen a silent, thoughtful stare, and Alex was surprised to feel comforted under those sinister red eyes, staring trustingly back. "If you are worried about falling," the dragon said quietly, "I assure you that I will not allow such a thing to occur. My scales can envelope your legs, so that you are unable to fall. When we start working on my larger forms, you shall be able to stand on one foot without holding onto anything in a gale without having to worry about falling." Alex blinked, doubtful, but nodded and moved forward.

He set his hands gently against the dragons face, stroking the soft scales there and scratching gently behind the fin-like red membrane baring ears, noticing that these, too, had spines, though only four apiece. Kissing the narrow snout, he moved towards the dragon's side and watched as Kinjewel stood straight. Without hesitation, Kinjewel's tail wrapped gently around him, the flared red fins pressing against the boys chest as he was lifted and set gently in front of the gold dragons wings.

He was released just as gently and, as he watched with wide-eyed fascination, the dragon's scales shifted around his feet and, indeed, envelope them. It made them seem to disappear seamlessly, as if his legs were, in a sense, part of the dragon. Like Siamese twins… Also, the two nearest spikes grew and shifted, until they latched onto two similar spikes behind the boy, forming surprisingly supple but firm bars across his straddling thighs.

"Whoa," he murmured softly. "That's just… Magnificent," he breathed, stroking his dragon's neck gently; Kinjewel gave a rumble of pleasure at both the praise and the petting.

"Ready?" the dragon asked as the first rumble of thunder rolled through the darkening sky, tilting his head elegantly to look back at him. Alex nodded, stomach fluttering with nerves and excitement. Instantly, those magnificent wings outstretched and, without crouching and pushing himself into the air, the wings flapped firmly and they lifted as easily as if they had stepped into the air themselves. Alex gave a soft gasp, and then found himself laughing with joy as Kinjewel continued to flap his wings, tilting and taking them over the sheep pen and towards the forest.

Rain began to fall, but neither seemed to notice or care, and Alex was soon soaked through with the lukewarm rain, uncaring as he threw his arms out and laughed joyously. Kinjewel looked back at him with a smile of his own, and dipped his right wing low, sending them into a steep turn, before he rolled gracefully and his wings bent backwards easily, so that they continued to fly upside down, and at the same speed. Alex laughed some more, cheeks hurting from grinning too much, as the gold dragon rolled neatly and set them easily to right.

"That was brilliant!" The boy exclaimed when they landed minutes later, beside the large oak tree near the pen, where they could easily see all the sheep, who had panicked only a little, before settling and going back to sleep, the rain now pounding down on them all. Alex found himself flushed and out of breath, having thoroughly enjoyed the entire experience.

"You are a natural flyer," the dragon assured him, one large red wing sliding out to lay over the teen, protecting him from the downpour, curved to touch the ground like some kind of bizarre tent. His scales shifted until he was back to the size he had been when they first met, mere hours before, which made Alex give him a bemused smile before shrugging. He couldn't find it in himself to freak out or think about how easily he'd accepted this after only a little while.

Instead, he climbed onto the dragon's large foreleg and reclined, back against the dragon's chest. The wing twisted forward at an impossible angle as Kinjewel laid his head next to the boy, snout resting against his outstretched legs, and the red membrane kept the rain from landing on either of them.

Alex sighed happily and stroked the dragon's head gently. After a few minutes, listening to the muffled sound of rain hitting the dragon's wings and the thunder rumbling, watching the dim flash of lightening through the red, Alex drifted off into deep sleep. Kinjewel pulled his head from under his wing to sit, sphinx-like, and watch the sheep and storm alike, a silent protector.

**Two**

For the next two months it was the same. Alex would go to the farmhouse to change and eat, bathe in some springs near the cave where he'd met Kinjewel, and watch over the sheep. During these times, Kinjewel would sleep in the tree, no bigger then a large owl, sprawled out like some scaled jungle cat, or go hunting. When night fell, they went flying, and soon Alex could stand and move around on the gold dragons back when he was a little larger then he had been when they first met.

"Exactly how big can you get, anyways?" Alex asked one day, four weeks into their flying practice. Kinjewel hummed thoughtfully and twisted gracefully, doing a barrel roll. Alex remained standing, if a little startled, his feet firmly incased in the dragon's scales.

"Do you know of the dragon breed called Regal Coppers?" Alex blinked, mind flashing to the utterly massive red and gold dragons, Britain heavyweights.

"Yeah," he said, frowning slightly.

"At my true size, I am larger and heavier then fifty seven of them, combined," he replied matter-of-factly, voice tinged with smugness. Alex choked, eyes going huge. "My kind continue to grow over the centuries," the dragon continued easily; Alex carefully moved up and down his back, getting used to the random corkscrews and rolls.

"So…" he said as he reached the gold dragons head, "what, exactly, is your breed?" The dragon gave that thoughtful hum again and stopped midair, wings flapping perpendicular to his feline-like body; the twelve spines allowing full movement and flexibility.

"I am what is more recently called a Rex Ab-Incunabulis," he replied easily, reaching back and offering one five-taloned hand. Alex scrambled onto it, and the dragon brought him forward so that they were eye-to-eye. "That is the Latin term for me: King From The Cradle. I am from a many-centuries-extinct breed of Egyptian dragons, which were once hatched only to be advisors and defenders for the Pharaoh. We were once worshiped as the Gods of Dragonkind, the First Born. I am the last, and I shall be the last unless I find a mate I deem worthy. That is not likely in this day and age," he added, cocking his head to the side.

"Often, in older times," he continued as Alex sat in the palm of his claws, utterly fascinated, "we were the ones who chose the next Pharaoh, as we can see people's souls, to an extent." Alex touched his chest, and suddenly looked uncertain; Kinjewel smiled slightly, red eyes gentling. "You're name is Alexander: Defender of Mankind, and that is what you are. You cannot stand injustice onto another, nor can you handle cruelty to others. You bear it on your shoulders and take much more responsibility then any human should." The dragon nuzzled him affectionately.

"That is what a good Pharaoh is at heart. I shall train you in the ways of a Pharaoh and you shall be my charge. Mine to protect and care for, and I shall protect you and listen to your opinions. Though," he grinned, a near-shark-like expression. "I do not promise to obey any orders you give, or not to eat any who threaten your well-being." Alex gave a laugh at that, smiling finally up at the dragon as tears filled his eyes.

"I'll try to do you proud, okay?" he replied; the dragon nodded and nuzzled him with a happy rumble.

That was three weeks ago, and Alex found himself grasping the tutelage of his dragon far easier then any of the things his human teachers attempted to teach him. His writing got neater, his attitude less trusting but still warm, and his grace went from none to a much more noticeable level. He had begun to learn Chinese, on some odd whim Kinjewel had one day, and he found the strange language only a bit difficult to understand.

Then the other dragon came to the farmhouse…

Kinjewel's first instinct was to grow large and kill it for trespassing in his territory, but Alex shushed him and sent him to hide in the forest, walking down the hill toward the farmhouse curiously.

Sitting in the front yard was a single dragon. It was a beautiful Regal Copper; it's brilliant colors glinting lively in the midday sunlight. It sat patiently as its crew darted here and there on it's harness, going through the motions. Its Captain must have been inside the house, so Alex trotted down and nodded politely at the dragon, deciding to wait patiently outside instead of going in.

"Hello," he said when the Regal Copper lowered its head to peer at him, pupil narrowing curiously.

"Hello to you as well," it said, voice deep but definitely feminine. "My name is Laetificat, and my Captain is inside right now." Alex smiled up at the curious dragon, giving her a small, polite bow.

"My name's Alexander, though most just call me Alex," he replied. "I live here, and once I am of age, this place will belong to me. In all honesty, any and all issues with this property _should_ be brought up with me," he added loudly, turning to glare at the Forresters' as they exited the house, watching with satisfaction as they paled. "I _do_ own the place, after all. You two," he gestured at them, "are nothing more then _extremely_ temporary guardians that should not be here in the first place, as I have been emancipated since I was six and my family died!" He snapped the last, glaring darkly at the two, before giving a polite bow to the man who exited behind them, looking irritated. "I suppose you would be this gorgeous dragon's Captain, yes?" he asked; the man nodded stiffly, stepping forward and offering his hand.

"Captain Portland," he greeted; Alex shook his hand and took in his appearance. He was a thin man with severe features and a hawksbill nose, who the boy couldn't help but notice looked quite like a dragon himself.

"Alexander Heartford," he replied, "though Alex is preferred. What can I help you with, Captain?" he asked easily, calmly observing the man before him. Portland looked rather wary and suspicious, but huffed and crossed his arms.

"There have been several reports of a feral dragon around these parts; something that is taken very seriously, what with the war with Napoleon going on, it could very well be a French dragon that's slipped past our lines." Alex opened his mouth to say something when a shadow flew briefly over them. Laetificat growled and bared her teeth as Kinjewel landed mere yards away, in a form only slightly smaller then her own, red eyes narrowed as he sat up and wrapped his tail neatly around his talons, flaring his ears and tail-fins aggressively. Alex sighed and turned, trotting over to him before anyone could stop him.

"I thought I told you to stay out of sight?" he complained; Kinjewel leaned down and nuzzled him gently, eyes never leaving the other dragon.

"You took too long, Alex, and besides," he smiled and his tail flashed out, scooping Alex up and setting him on the dragons shoulder, where he wrapped a hand nonchalantly around the gold spike there. "I was curious."

"What the bloody hell?" Portland demanded, looking angry and confused. Kinjewel snorted and gave him a critical once-over, then turned his eyes back to Laetificat easily. "What the devil are you on about, Heartford?" he barked; Alex peered down at him, blinking.

"I was going to tell you," he called down easily, "but then this great lummox decided to throw caution to the wind." He shook his head and patted Kinjewel on the neck gently, smiling. Kinjewel's eyes had spotted the Forresters', though, and a rumbling growl escaped his throats.

"Can I eat them now?" he pleaded, a surprisingly plaintive tone in his voice; Alex sighed as Laetificat and Portland both stiffened, shocked.

"I told you, no, Kinjewel," he said with a sigh. "For one, you'll get indigestion, and for two, you'd get shot. That's how England deals with man-eaters." Kinjewel sighed and, Alex was surprised to see that he actually seemed to _pout_, before shrugging.

"Very well," he said; Alex patted his neck consolingly.

"Would you please set me down now, lovely?" he asked with a bemused smiled; instantly, Kinjewel's tail wrapped around him and set him down. "Thank you, Kinjewel," he said; the large gold dragon nodded in reply, tail once more wrapping around his talons.

"An explanation would be nice, Heartford," Portland growled; Alex shrugged.

"Kinjewel was a feral dragon I met when looking for a lamb out in the woods," he told the Captain simply, easily. "He decided he wanted me as his charge, ordered that I give him a name, and we have been working on flying for the past two months. That's pretty much it; simple, really." Portland stared at him, before taking a deep breath and letting it out carefully, looking grim.

"I'm afraid I must report this to the Admiralty," he replied, "And you and your great beast there will be sent to a training camp, most likely Loch Laggan in Scotland for training, with the war getting as bad as it is." He muttered the last, grimacing. "How soon can you be ready?" Alex blinked calmly.

"In a few moments," he replied; he looked up at Kinjewel, and then scowled. "Can you shrink a bit, lovely?" he asked. "You're making my neck ache." Kinjewel inclined his head and, in a familiar shifting of his scales, shrank until he was as tall as Alex was. "Brilliant, thank you." Kinjewel nuzzled him gently, and Alex scratched him behind his ear-fin affectionately. He turned to face the gaping Captain and his dragon's crew. "Would Laetificat like something to eat?" he asked cheerfully. "We have some rather nice sheep; she and Kinjewel can both grab a quick snack to tide them over until we reach the Admiralty, yes?" Mute with shock, Portland managed a weak nod, and Kinjewel immediately took to air, shifting swiftly into his larger form and disappearing over the hill, returning moments later, gently carrying two plump ewes. He graciously placed one in front of the Regal Copper, giving her a silent, patient stare, his red eyes clearly putting the female dragon on edge. Alex coughed meaningfully, and Kinjewel blinked slowly, looking down at him, before nodding. He flapped his magnificent wings and lifted, landing neatly a few yards away, and shifted into a much larger form, soon dwarfing the Regal Copper, and placed the entire sheep in his mouth, killing it with one, neat crunch.

"How big can he get?" Portland asked faintly; Alex blinked at him as Laetificat dug messily into her own sheep.

"Um," he frowned, thinking. "About…fifty-seven times as big and heavy as Laetificat…" Portland stared at him in raw disbelief and horror, before swallowing as Kinjewel returned, the size of a small horse, with the only evidence of his meal being some bloody smudges around his mouth, which gave his near demonic appearance an even more savage tinge.

"I…See…" the Captain managed; Alex gave him a slightly confused look, before he shrugged and slipped past him, into the house. Once inside, he gathered all his belongings into one pack, as well as the deed to the farm. With a thoughtful look, he quickly added a small anecdote to the end, explaining that he and his dragon, maybe more then one, might occasionally land there and partake of a sheep or three, prepaid, of course. With that, he handed the deed to the Forresters' with a sneer, carried his bag outside, and was promptly lifted onto Kinjewel's back, the dragon having shifted into his form that was larger then Laetificat. Alex instantly watched his bag sucked into the scales, disappearing totally, and stood, waving Portland and the Regal Copper to go first. As they did, and Kinjewel leapt up after them, Alex couldn't help but wonder if life was going to change too much…

**Three**

"There's a battle going on over that way," Kinjewel suddenly announced, head turned slightly and staring intently off towards the northeast. Alex blinked, rubbing his eyes tiredly and stood, trotting up the large dragons strong neck to stand on his head, pulling a small eyeglass from his bag when it came out of the scales at his feet. He aimed it in that direction, barely catching the brief flare-ups of cannon-fire.

"It's over the Channel," he announced; the dragon hummed. Alex closed his eyeglass and put it back into the bag, not even twitching when it once more disappeared.

"Shall we join it?" Kinjewel asked eagerly; Alex glanced over his shoulder at Laetificat and Portland, taking in the exhausted flapping of the Regal Coppers wings and sighed.

"Let us give Laetificat a place to rest," he said, "then go and join the battle." The gold dragon didn't respond, but there was a queer sensation of watching the scales around his feet shift as he grew to nearly four times the other dragons size, dropping down and winging backwards easily, lifting again from under her. She scrabbled slightly, startled, and then pulled her wings in gratefully, sitting on her haunches. Alex patted Kinjewel's head with an idle hand before sliding gently down his neck and walking over toward Portland as he carefully slid down his dragon's body, wary but grateful.

"You weren't kidding when you said he could get big," the man muttered; Alex gave him an amused look.

"There's a big battle over the Channel," the teen told him. "Kinjewel and I are going to join it. We thought to give Laetificat a rest so that she may be able to fly the rest of the way to the Admiralty so that they are well informed about us before we arrived. That way, we will not cause too much of a shock, yes?" Portland gaped, then nodded, looking suddenly like he had aged ten years.

"You, lad, are going to be one hell of a headache," he said simply with a weary sigh; Alex gave him a cheeky grin.

"Only if I do my job right," he replied, before laughing and turning, running up Kinjewel's long length to once more perch on his head. They were getting closer, and Alex could just _barely_ make out distinct shapes of flying dragons in the eyeglass, when Laetificat once more took flight. Saluting Portland with his eyeglass before putting it away, the teen slid down Kinjewel's neck to stand at the base, before patting his neck twice.

"Let's give 'em hell, okay?" he called; Kinjewel growled lowly, wings flaring dramatically, before he lunged forward at a speed as-yet unknown, tilted slightly so that he was well above the combat zone. They came upon the dragons in minutes, and Alex could now see that several of the French dragons were carrying thin, wooden ships, most likely carrying thousands of soldiers apiece, towards the English lines.

Kinjewel took a deep breath and let out one huge, thunderous roar; the dragons below panicked, most freezing and dropping, back-winging, or scattering in disorganized chaos. He dove from the sky, claws outstretched, and snatched two of the wooden ships easily, rising again, and dragging the eight dragons that had been carrying the ships (four each) with him. Rumbling with bloodthirsty delight, he slammed the wooden constructs together, making a vicious explosion of gore and splinters; mutilated corpses, both men and the dragons who had also been viciously slammed together, fell into the sea below.

Kinjewel chuckled gleefully, flying high and flaring his wings, giving a full-throated roar. The red of his wings made him an immensely demonic figure, and his glowing red eyes only added to the image. Grinning, he dove again, swiping happily at the forty-something French dragons, managing to catch a Petite Chevalier, a French heavyweight, in one massive claw. Holding it up to his face, he blinked as its crew immediately set about shooting at him. The bullets ricocheted harmlessly off of his scales and, surprisingly, his eyes with soft, metallic pings.

"How troublesome," he rumbled, amused, before promptly opening his mouth and roaring. Something was different about this one, though, and Alex was surprised to see a wave of pure _heat_ ripple from his dragon's mouth. Not flames, just a vicious, focused wave of nothing but _heat_. The French heavyweight squalled before its flesh melted right off its bones. Chuckling, Kinjewel dropped the skeleton, and turned to face the French, quite obviously defending the weaker English, and grinned evilly.

"Hello, my little friends," he purred, hovering easily, his tail curling up, fin flaring and curling up to hide his face besides his eyes, like a shy maidens fan. "Would you care to dance?" He chuckled darkly, tail flashing out and away, before he once more let loose one of those roaring heat waves, melting the closest French dragons and making countless other shriek. There was another roar nearby; Alex turned in time to see a serpentine black dragon with bony frills and catfish-like strands on it's snout, send a similar wave of pure force into the belly of a wooden ship, breaking it nearly in half. Obviously feeling charitable, Kinjewel didn't interfere with him, instead chasing several fleeing dragons, flying low, and watching eagerly as the French ships shot at him.

"Catch!" he shouted, snatching an oncoming cannonball right out of the air and twisting, flying upside down to throw the ball with deadly accuracy at the three small Poux-de-Ciels' that were chasing him. The cannonball slammed straight into the middle one's chest with a sickening crunch that Alex could hear from his distance, watching the small dragon fall to the water even as Kinjewel rolled back to fly right-side-up once more.

"You're having too much fun!" he called to his dragon, even as cheers went up on the British side. The French were fleeing, swiftly and ungracefully. Kinjewel did a backwards loop-de-loop, chuckling gleefully, and roared challengingly after the French. Obviously, none answered his challenge, much to his smug satisfaction. Chuckling, he turned, and flew towards the British lines lazily, showing no aggression at all, and he even yawned, rolling upside down and back up again as if bored. The black dragon from before flew towards them carefully, wary, and the gold dragon paused, hovering easily in midair and watched him come closer patiently.

"Hello," the dragon said carefully, sounding young, male, and surprisingly beautiful. Kinjewel inclined his head. "Do you have a Captain?" the dragon asked curiously. "Where's your harness? Are you a feral dragon?" the questions kept on coming, and Kinjewel chuckled softly.

"My name is Kinjewel," he said simply; the black dragon blinked, startled. Alex trotted up to stand on Kinjewel's head, waving at the dragon and his Captain and crew cheerfully. "This is Alex; he is under my protection," he said firmly, red eyes narrowing slightly before softening. Alex smacked his head gently.

"Don't threaten him, Kinjewel," he scolded affectionately. "Hello there!" he called loudly over the wind, and the black dragon looked at him curiously, blue eyes deep and gorgeous.

"Hello," he replied. "My name's Temeraire, and Laurence is my Captain. Are you going to land with us? Kinjewel is quite large," he added; Alex just managed to slide down to his dragon's neck-base before the dragon had shifted to a much smaller form. He was now the same size as a Clydesdale, and was grinning rather smugly as Temeraire back-winged in startled surprise.

"Does that fix the problem?" he asked in amusement; Alex smacked his neck gently.

"Showoff," he announced fondly; Kinjewel chuckled gleefully. They followed Temeraire and the rest of his formation to land, where Alex slid to the ground and stretched, his bag slipping from the gold dragons scales and landing with a soft thump at his feet. They were greeted with roaring cheers, and Alex found himself blushing and ducking his head, feeling suddenly shy and bashful. He was unused to attention of the positive kind as of late.

"That was a bloody brilliant bit of flying, lad!" someone from one of the dragons called; many others called out their agreement. Alex flushed and grinned uncertainly, pressing a little closer to Kinjewel, who pointedly yawned; several men scrambled away from his open mouth, fearing the deadly heat he could send out. The gold dragon flapped his large wings, unfurling them a bit so that he looked rather intimidating, though his face remained bland and slightly bored.

"I wish we had gotten here sooner," he told Alex, as if no one else existed, and sounded very wistful. "I should have liked to see if any of those French dragons tasted any good…" he sighed, ignoring the English dragons immediate recoiling in horror. Alex gave him a scolding look.

"I thought you had already eaten before the flight!" he exclaimed, scowling; Kinjewel gave him an amused, droll look.

"Yes, well, seven deer and a fat sheep do not a full dragon make," he replied; Alex gave him a pointedly exasperated look.

"It does if you'd stop constantly shifting about trying to impress everyone," he complained.

"Am I not allowed to have fun?" he asked back.

"Not if fun endangers the herdsman's livelihood," Alex shot back; Kinjewel grinned and they continued to bicker and banter, absently following the other dragons to their base, Alex once more riding Kinjewel, this time holding his bag. They landed in an unused clearing, still arguing, and were met by one Admiral Lenton and his dragon, an Angelwing by the name of Obversaria.

"That was quite a show you two put on," the Admiral said simply once they were in earshot; Alex bowed politely while Kinjewel gave the other man a once-over before turning his red eyes on the Angelwing, who gave him a silent, narrow-eyed stare herself.

"Kinjewel wished to join the battle," Alex said simply. "We were on our way to the Admiralty with Captain Portland and Laetificat, when we caught sight of the battle. Portland gave the go-ahead so that he could tell the Admiralty of our existence so that they are better prepared, and so that Kinjewel could assist England, who looked just a bit hard pressed, sir," he said; Kinjewel snorted and Alex elbowed him in the side with a scolding glare for his rudeness.

"Yes, well, bravo, lad," the older man said simply. "I'm surprised you could ride him so well during a battle, with the little acrobatic stunts he seemed to enjoy." Alex blushed and smiled at him shyly.

"Kinjewel is a special fellow, sir," he said; Kinjewel yawned.

"And will only accept a special kind of rider and only one," he added bluntly, giving the Admiral a calm, unblinking stare. Lenton shrugged his shoulders before sighing.

"See how the other Admiral's take that," he said, before bidding them farewell and taking to air. Alex shrugged and then went about seeing if he could procure a cow for Kinjewel's dinner, before they would settle down for the night.

Life sure was going to get interesting…

**Four**

"This feels strange," Alex confided in Captain Laurence, plucking at his new dress clothes, holding a wineglass that was only a quarter filled, and untouched. It had been three days since the battle, and the Captains bars on the sixteen-year-olds bottle-green jacket had earned him more then one queer, disbelieving look. Alex found he quite enjoyed William Laurence's company, as Kinjewel enjoyed Temeraire's constant questioning. The gold dragon had been forced to assure both the black dragon and his Captain that the questions were by no means irritating or too personal. In fact, he encouraged the other dragon's curiosity.

"Those who don't ask questions about the world around them are doomed to forever repeat the mistakes of the past and to follow a figurehead like sheep to the slaughter," he'd told them simply, tail fanning him idly while it swayed, catlike.

"You get used to it, Alex, no worries," Laurence told him sympathetically. Alex grumbled disbelievingly, and sipped his wine, grimacing at the strange taste.

"Excuse me," came a voice; Alex turned his head to find himself face to face with a pretty blond girl who looked about his age, looking shy and sweet. "You're the Captain of the gold dragon, aren't you?" she asked; Alex blinked, then nodded, before taking her hand and bowing over it with a polite kiss to her knuckles.

"Captain Alex Heartford, at your service, my fair lady," he said charmingly, all discomfort and boredom seemingly nonexistent as manners drilled into his head by Kinjewel before the party came into play. Laurence looked rather startled; the girl blushed and giggled.

"My name is Jessica Ingsley," she said shyly. "My father is Lord Ingsley, who owns quite a bit of the agricultural area's of Dover." Alex straightened with an inclination of his head, as if he had any idea of who her father was when, in fact, he had absolutely none.

"Well, Miss Ingsley, would you care to dance?" he asked simply, and she nodded with a shy giggle.

"Please, call me Jessica," she said as he set his glass down and led her towards the dance floor, giving Laurence a sheepish smile over her head.

"Then, my dear, I insist that you call me Alex," he told her charmingly, before the music played and they began to dance, Alex's newfound grace impressing quite a few of the watchers, including an approving looking blond man with a near-handsome face, only ruined by the creepy mustache he had that seemed to have attracted quite a few crumbs from his food.

"You're rather good at dancing, Alex," Jessica remarked as they spun delicately. Alex gave her a warm smile.

"Ah, but you outshine me as only the brightest star could, Jessica," he said easily, and was rewarded with a shy blush and a ducked head.

"You are too kind, Captain," she murmured softly, peering up at him with large blue eyes through her thick lashes; he smiled easily and spun them around with ease, body moving on autopilot until the song ended and they pulled apart. Alex bowed lowly; Jessica curtsied.

"Would you care to meet my dragon, Jessica?" Alex asked easily, unsure if he truly wished them to meet or if he hoped that the prospect would frighten her off. Before he could decide, her face brightened and she smiled brilliantly.

"I would love to," she said enthusiastically; he offered her his arm and led the way outside in time to watch Laurence fly off with Temeraire and another man who, at this distance, Alex couldn't quite make out. Kinjewel was sitting a little ways away from the other dragons, staring silently up at the sky, tracing stars with his blood red eyes. He was currently the size of a small horse, and turned his head as they neared, looking curious and calm.

"Jessica," Alex said easily, "may I present Kinjewel. Kinjewel, this is Jessica Ingsley. She was eager to make your acquaintance," he added as an afterthought. Kinjewel turned calmly and sat, before bowing to the girl with a small smile.

"Greetings, fair lady," he murmured, tail fin flaring thoughtfully as his tail swayed behind him, catlike. She blushed and curtsied to him.

"Hello," she said shyly, before straightening. "Is it true that you can shift your size at will?" she asked curiously; Kinjewel smiled wider and answered by becoming as large as a Regal Copper, before shrinking down to the size of a kitten. He remained that size, lifting into the air to glide in a few graceful circles around the two teens heads, before settling on his charge's shoulder. "How brilliant!" Jessica gasped, reaching over to tentatively pet the minuscule dragon gently. Kinjewel purred, arching into the petting, and firmly setting into Alex's mind as the cat-dragon, which made him smile slightly to himself.

"Shall we continue this conversation closer to the other dragons and the musicians?" he asked Jessica and Kinjewel both, gesturing to where a lone violinist sat, all but preening under the attention of Lilly, Excidium, and Maximus, two Longwings and a Regal Copper respectively. Jessica nodded eagerly, obviously keen to be near more dragons, an emotion that Alex found rather refreshing for someone who wasn't in the Corps themselves.

Most people were either terrified of the dragons or considered them no more then beasts used to fight and so uncivilized for human company to partake in. The three dragons greeted them curiously, but soon returned their attention to the violinist. There were several other interested dragons, but Lilly and Maximus were by far the more inquisitive and approving.

"This is splendid," Jessica murmured nearly an hour later, sitting next to Alex on Kinjewel's thick gold foreleg, listening to the musicians, several of which had moved outside to join the solo violinist as the party wound down drastically. Her head was on the teens shoulder, and he hummed softly in agreement, eyes closed, as he leaned back against Kinjewel's chest, hand absently stroking the scales beside his thigh. Kinjewel watched them both silently, before smiling slightly as the musicians began to try their hands at improvisation, each trying to harmonize with one another without having any idea what they were playing. It actually didn't sound too bad; more like each one was taking random parts from multiple pieces and scrambling them together. Suddenly, there was a loud clearing of someone's throat, and Alex opened his eyes and peered over the edge of Kinjewel's leg, as the dragon also looked down. The blond man, with the food-attracting mustache, looked up at him with some amusement.

"It is time for Jessica to go home," he called simply; Alex saluted and gently shook the girl awake. She blinked sleepily and he smiled, before turning and sliding easily down the side of his dragon's forelimb. Turning, he watched as Kinjewel's tail immediately wrapped around the girl gently and lowered her carefully, until Alex could hold her waist. Then the tail unwound itself from her and slid away, and Alex lowered her carefully the rest of the way with a warm smile.

"Perhaps I could write to you," he said, casting the man who could only be Jessica's father a questioning look. "As I am no doubt to be stationed either here to fight, or Lock Laggan to train, and in all likelihood will be thus unable to visit personally as a lady of your standing deserves," he said, looking once more at the girl's father; the man nodded approvingly and seemed to smile slightly. Jessica blushed, murmured her farewells, and left with a wistful pat to Kinjewel's hide. Once they were out of sight, Alex gave a soft, relieved sigh and collapsed against his dragon's limb. Kinjewel chuckled and nuzzled him affectionately, before suggesting a midnight fly. Nodding, the teen was lifted onto the dragons back via his tail, as usual, and they were soon flying gracefully through the air, Kinjewel gliding instead of trying to really fly.

"Jessica was a nice girl for a human," Kinjewel said after ten minutes of companionable silence. Alex hummed in agreement, though not with too much enthusiasm. "Did you not like her?" the dragon asked, turning his head so that one red eye caught the moon and gleamed jewel-bright, watching him observantly. Alex sighed.

"I liked her well enough," he told the dragon honestly. "I just don't think her and I would make a good match. Her love for dragons was refreshing, to be honest, but her father seemed almost too happy to have us spending alone time together, unsupervised by any but a handful of dragons who, lets face it, would find a human coupling more interesting then repulsive." Kinjewel chuckled and did a lazy loop-de-loop.

"I understand your worries," he said calmly as he arched, making his body do a, for once, serpentine wave. Alex glanced back idly, and noticed, for the first time, that the fin on Kinjewel's tail swayed side-to-side, looking rather as if he was swimming through the air.

"I honestly feel as if I am too young to go a'courting. _Especially_ seeing as how I have nothing to my name but a dragon and what capital I'll gain from the Aerial Corps for fighting." He sighed and stood, pacing briefly up and down the dragons broad back. Currently, he was only a little larger then Temeraire was, though that wasn't exactly something to sneeze at. Sighing, he flopped down at the base of the dragon's neck, lying on his back, arms behind his head, and stared silently up at the stars as they continued to whisk by lazily. After a few minutes, he was asleep, and Kinjewel silently and gracefully made his way back to their clearing, where he gently used his tail to shift the slumbering Alex to a makeshift nest in his forelegs, and lay his head over him to protect him from the elements, red eyes closing. But he did not sleep, merely rested, always alert of his surroundings, and thoughts sliding through his mind continuously.

Alex mournfully stared up at the sky, watching the clouds blow slowly by. It had been two weeks since the party, and two weeks since Laurence was forbidden to see Temeraire, simply because he was a Celestial dragon and China was pitching a fit. Or, at least, that's how Temeraire and Kinjewel explained it, the gold dragon spending more time keeping the depressed black dragon company. They went flying every night, after the Chinese dragon was fast asleep, and spoke quietly of the issue. Finally, Alex decided that they should talk to the Admiralty about the declination of the usually cheerful dragons health, as he barely ate in his miserable state.

"Are you ready?" Kinjewel asked, landing in the courtyard. Alex straightened his clothes, wearing his aviator's jacket and bars. He slid gracefully down Kinjewel's forelimb and nodded at him, watching silently as the dragon shifted into his kitten-sized form and coiled upon his shoulders, looking like a baleful spirit and turning the teenagers slightly ridiculous formal appearance into something serious and no little amount of sinister.

"Let's stir some mud, shall we?" Alex murmured, taking a deep breath, before he stalked forward, head held high and eyes cold, face blank. He stalked into the building like he was a very important and irritated person that should not be messed with or delayed, and instantly, several people moved out of the way. He stalked straight for the Admiral's office, nodding curtly to the Marines and Chinese guards, before he rapped three times sharply and walked in, closing the door behind him with a rather uneasy note of finality. Stalking forward, he bowed stiffly to Lord Barham of the Admiralty who was also a sailor, less stiffly to Admiral Powys of the Aerial Corps, and then a much more respectful bow to the Chinese envoy's…one of whom, he realized with an imperceptible start, was Prince Yongxing of China himself, brother to the Emperor.

"What the devil is the meaning of this?" Barham barked, face flushing a rather unflattering shade of puce. Alex gave him a disdainful stare, taking in his ruffled clothes in silent disapproval, eyes flicking to the impeccable Chinese robes the prince and his envoys both held, then to the very neat appearance of both Admiral Powys and Laurence. Flushing darker, the Lord tried to nonchalantly fix his clothes, and didn't do very good at it. Alex deliberately turned his head and inclined it to Laurence, before he clasped his hands behind his back and shot what could only be termed as a rather vicious glower at the Admiral.

"I thought it might be prudent," he said icily, barely polite. "To inform you, Lord Barham, that your foolish ideals of forcefully parting Captain Laurence and the Celestial christened Temeraire is not only foolish, as I mentioned, but also proving detrimental to said Celestial's health." Laurence and the Chinese immediately looked slightly alarmed.

"What's wrong with Temeraire?" Laurence demanded, starting forward, but Kinjewel gave a sharp, warning hiss and he froze, before taking three steps back, looking slightly pale.

"He has not eaten more then a single cow in the past five days," Alex said coldly. "As those of us with _experience_ with dragons know," he cast another disdainful look on Barham. "When a dragon as large as the Celestial refuse to eat, they are at risk of falling into systematic shock, and are therefore likely to do one of three things. One, they will get over it if the thing that caused them such distress is ceased, in other words, if Laurence is immediately returned to the dragons side. Two," he ignored Barham's attempt to interrupt. "They will go feral in an attempt to free themselves from the area of stress, and kill any and all attempting to stop them. Or three," he paused, and his eyes landed calmly, patiently, on Powys, who was grim and grave looking.

"They die," the Admiral said bluntly; everything was quiet for a few moments. Even the Chinamen looked rather pale, though Laurence was visibly trembling, lips tightly pressed and desperation in his dark eyes.

"I suggest," Alex said quietly, seriously, "that you allow Laurence to, at least, coax him to eat. Perhaps remain with him for a bit so as to make sure his stomach does not immediately reject the food if he were to be removed too soon. After all, I should think the comfort of the dragon should be put above all others, as he is such a coveted creature." Kinjewel yawned suddenly and leaped from the boys shoulder, landing on the floor at a size of a rather large dog. He gave Barham a dark look, then turned his blood red eyes on Yongxing, eying im thoughtfully. Then he sat and bowed deeply.

"_Greetings,"_ he said calmly in Chinese, and everyone but Alex stared at him. The boy was waiting patiently for his cue. _"I am _Kinjewel _of the First Born Golden breed."_ Instantly, all three of the Chinamen looked both gobsmacked and pale. _"This is my charge and companion, _Alexander Heartford." Alex stepped forward and bowed deeply as Kinjewel sat up and stared at the prince expectantly.

"_It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Your Highness,"_ Alex murmured in perfect Chinese as well, and only straightened when Yongxing had nodded. Alex turned his attention back towards Barham, though he did so with obvious disdain towards the man.

"What is that beast doing in here?" The Lord snapped, once more coloring unflattering. Alex gave him a silent, raised eyebrow at his loss of composure.

"Do you mean to take my advice or doom the dragon to either ferality or death?" he asked bluntly; the man sputtered.

"Now see here!" he shouted, lunging to his feet. "I will not be talked to in such a way by a mere child! I will see you hanged for treason!" Alex merely continued to stare at him, unflustered, eyebrow remained arched.

"Lord Barham," he said simply, calmly. "As a charge of Egyptian Royalty, I have diplomatic immunity, and you are unable to hang me, let alone talk to _me_ in such a way," he said with quiet forcefulness, face blank and cold. Barham sputtered and Powys frowned.

"How are you a charge of Egyptian Royalty when there are no true Royals left?" Powys asked; Barham looked triumphant and opened his mouth, most likely to call for Alex to be taken away, when the prince spoke up, in English, which was heavily accented, formal, and slow, but clear enough to understand easily.

"He is the charge of the last First Born Golden," he said sharply but quietly, eyes staring at Kinjewel with wary respect. "The First Born Golden chose the Kings, Emperors, Pharaohs, and Leaders of old. They have been believed dead for millennia, and originated in Egypt long before China began to tame dragons. That one has chosen to show himself and also choose a worthy rider is very, very good luck." Kinjewel nodded silently at the prince. Alex suddenly frowned and turned his eyes on the prince.

"Your Highness," he said suddenly, and confusion colored his voice in a soft undertone. "Do you have a dragon?" When he received a wary nod, he continued with a confused frown. "Then you know exactly what you are asking of Captain Laurence. If you were ordered to lie to and betray your dragon to the utmost degree, for a people you did not trust nor even like all that much, would you do so?" The prince frowned and sat back. The young envoy to his left murmured something Alex didn't quite catch, and got a vicious glare in return. Yongxing turned his eyes forward.

"Very well," he said suddenly; Laurence, Barham, and Powys looked shocked. "If Lung Tien Xiang shall not be parted from him, then the Captain will simply have to come as well." his tone left no room for argument, and the room was shocked silent.

"By God," Barham blurted, "If you want him, you can have him, and God Bless!" he threw his hands in the air in relieved exasperation.

"We shall go as well," Kinjewel announced; Alex opened his mouth, startled, but the gold dragon gave him a silent, steady look. He closed his mouth and gave a light bow.

"As you wish, Kinjewel," he said with a sigh, palms lifting in helpless deference to the dragon's choice. The gold dragon nodded, pleased, then promptly said goodbye to Prince Yongxing and his envoys, as well as Laurence and Powys, gave Barham a disdainful sniff, and led his charge out of the room. Alex couldn't help but grimace once they were out of sight, working his jaw quickly and worriedly; Kinjewel gave him a bizarre and amused look.

"What?" he demanded, huffing at the dragon. "I thought my face would stay that way!" The hallway echoed with the eerie, draconic laughter, making the guards all shiver.


	12. Forks and Spoons

**A/N:** I own nothing but the usual.

_Note –_ This is the ONLY HP/Twilight x-over I've ever written, or THOUGHT of writing. He/She who gets it best DAMN well appreciate it, because I did NOT like the Twilight Saga. The movies sucked, and while I think some of the FanFictions are pretty awesome in some respects, the Books were bad too! Sorry if I burst your bubbles, people, but I am of the opinion that real vampires SHOULD NOT _**SPARKLE**_! I prefer my spontaneously-combustible vampires, thank-you-very-much!

…

As you can see, it took quite a lot to make me write a Twilight work of any kind. The inspiration?

Twinkies.

I kid you not, I ate a whole box of Twinkies, and this is what happened. When I ran out of Twinkies, I couldn't write any more, and so it is up for adoption.

_**COLLAR RULES**_

1. Edward can read Harry's mind.

2. NONMAGIC

3. Harry is gay, and he MUST be all panic-driven about it because of the Dursley's.

4. Harry is afraid of Carlisle for being a doctor, but utterly adores Esme. Nervous about Emmett for being so big, and Alice for being so hyper. Likes Jasp. & Rose. Just for some weird reason you can make up, but is still shy. Only likes Edward because he makes Bella happy, and doesn't like him when he makes her unhappy or sad.

5. NOT A Harry/Jacob FIC! Pick someone else, PREFERABLE someone from the Vulturi, because I've seen all the Cullens and Wolves done, and they get BORING! (Pouts) The Volturi are always fun, though~!

6. The scene at the end (Minor Spoiler alert, I guess). You must have them end up taking Harry to Doctor Cullen OR sending for Doctor Cullen, and therefore introduce his utter terror of all things doctor.

Okay, that's it.

No flames from Twilighters or Twi-Nazis! I will use them to roast **you** with! (Rolls eyes) Seriously, "Which team are you on, Edward or Jacob?" Puh-_lease_!

**Just **

**R&R Already!**

**Forks and Spoons**

**PROLOGUE**

"Hello?" Charlie Swan said into the phone sleepily, rubbing brown eyes wearily. He'd _just_ gotten to bed, having been unable to sleep all night. It was five-thirty in the morning. He had to be at work in two hours. Sighing, he rolled out of bed.

"I'm looking for Charlie Swan?" A woman's voice said over the phone; Charlie grimaced. He might as well wake Bella up so she could shower and such before school. Absently, he noted that the woman on the phone had an English accent. Odd.

"Speaking," he replied, pulling on pants.

"This is Jennifer Wilks with Social Services," the woman said calmly; Charlie froze, startled.

"What's this about?" He asked warily.

"Your cousin Vernon Dursley has been arrested," she told him coolly, "as has his wife, Petunia. Mr. Dursley's sister is willing to take their son, but she was unwilling to take in Petunia's nephew, who has been staying with them since the death of his parents." Charlie was stock-still as his mind flashed back. He remembered Vernon, a cruel little shit who had a temper and an obsessive need to make others feel bad about themselves unless he wanted something.

"What," he said coolly. "Were they arrested for, Ms. Wilks?" Silence, then the woman cleared her throat.

"Child abuse, criminal negligence, and child endangerment," she replied quietly. "All against the nephew, none against their own child." Charlie was pale, now, his clothes forgotten.

"And you called me," he trailed off.

"The nephew, Harry Potter, needs a guardian," Wilks told him simply. "We prefer to ask family before setting children into foster homes. He's fifteen, and very well behaved," there was a slight edge when she said it; Charlie pursed his lips.

"What was the extent of the abuse?" he asked quietly; Ms. Wilks sighed softly.

"Mental, physical, and emotional," she said. "We believe there might have also been sexual, but Harry's not talking. He's been well… trained, not to talk to the police or workers, and he's deathly afraid of doctors and hospitals, as he showed by nearly seizing when he realized he was in one after he woke up." Charlie closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'll take him," he decided after a few moments of silence; Ms. Wilks's sigh of relief crackled over the line.

"I'll fax you the paperwork," she said; Charlie gave her the fax for Forks Police Department. "After it goes through, I'll fly over with Harry myself. Thank you for speaking with me at this time, Mr. Swan," Charlie grunted and said goodbye, before hanging up. Staring at his hands, he sighed softly, eyes closing. Child abuse. God.

"Dad?" Bella asked sleepily from the door; Charlie looked up wearily at his daughter. "Who was that?" Charlie looked down at the phone.

"That," he said quietly. "Was the Social Services officer in London. Your cousin Harry is going to come stay with us for a while." Bella stared at him, sleepy brown eyes confused.

"I have a cousin?"

**ONE**

Bella sat on a bench in the airport, waiting as the plane holding her unknown cousin landed and began to unload. She had a sign with his name written in large, red magic marker, and was biting her lip nervously. Charlie had wanted to be there, but he had to work. Since the plane wouldn't land until after school, Bella had agreed to go and pick him up. In all honesty, she didn't mind. She was curious about her younger cousin, and had really wanted to meet him. Now they had a good hour and a half to talk on the ride back to Forks.

Standing, she moved hesitantly into the crowd of people also waiting as the plane-riders walked out. Carefully, she held her sign, shifting from foot to foot. Her eyes dragged over the people, looking for anyone who could be her cousin. As she watched, though, a woman in a navy business skirt and jacket, with a purple blouse, walked towards her. Her hand rested on the shoulder of a small boy, who had messy black hair, pale skin, and was incredibly thin. He was picking at a black t-shirt and blue jeans, both of which looked brand new, and kept his head down. The woman looked around, saw Bella, read her sign, and smiled, turning the boy toward her. When they got close; Bella blurted,

"Harry Potter?" The boy glanced up, and Bella saw a dark purple bruise took up most of the left side of his face, swollen and painful looking. His eyes, she also realized, were the most gorgeous shade of green she'd ever seen, half-hidden behind glasses that also looked new, with small, rectangular lenses. The woman offered her hand with a polite smile.

"Jennifer Wilks," she said; Bella blinked and took her hand.

"Bella Swan," she replied. "I'm Charlie's daughter." She glanced at her little cousin, and marveled that this tiny boy was fifteen. Wilks placed her hands on the boy's shoulders gently, but he still flinched, looking at his new black and white Nikes once more.

"This is Harry," she said gently. "Harry, meet your cousin, Bella." Harry glanced up at her through his bangs.

"Hello," he said, voice soft and lilting, almost musical. He had the smallest amount of hoarseness that suggested he either talked too much (_Not likely_, Bella thought) or too little. She smiled and carefully offered her hand, not moving too fast.

"Hello, Harry," she said warmly; he hesitantly took her hand, his fingers long and thin. His entire hand and wrist looked so delicate that Bella was afraid it would break, until she felt the thick calluses on his palm and fingertips. It was a hand that worked hard and worked well, and she firmed her handshake a bit, still smiling. She wouldn't treat him like glass for the most part, she decided. More like aluminum. Strong but easily torn and crumpled.

"I leave him in your hands, Miss Swan," Wilks announced, then squeezed the boy's thin shoulders gently, before letting go. Bella continued to hold her tiny cousins hand, and he didn't pull away. They stared at each other for a few seconds, before Bella smiled.

"Let's go get your stuff," she said; he nodded slightly. Holding his hand, the seventeen-year-old led him to the luggage area, where he patiently waited, before pulling out a dark green backpack and a medium sized wheeled suitcase. When Bella noticed him shift while picking it up, favoring his right side, she silently scooped up the suitcase by the handle, pulling out the lever so it would wheel, and handed it to him.

"Thank you," he murmured; she smiled and took his free hand and his backpack, leading the way through the rest of the airport. When they reached her old monster of a truck, Bella put his things up front.

"It's almost always raining in Forks," she explained; Harry gave her a thin smile.

"Sounds like England," he said; Bella chuckled.

"Lots of rain, little sun, everything's the same, and not much fun," she rhymed; Harry let out a small laugh.

"Exactly like England, then," he said. "I'll feel right at home." Something flashed in his eyes, sad and pained, but his face never twitched from its small smile. Bella climbed in and buckled up, and Harry did the same. As she drove, Bella chatted cheerfully about Forks. The school, the people, the weather. About Charlie, the Blacks, the Cullens, her friends at school. She told him about the woods and beaches, the animals and the sights. Harry listened, utterly silent, but focused on her, bright eyes filled with the desperate need to know his new home, seeming to absorb her every word. Bella found it surprisingly relaxing. He was a great listener.

She didn't even realize how fast time had gone by until she was pulling into her driveway. Startled, she blinked rapidly, staring at the white house. Harry silently observed her, then looked at the house.

"That is the most I've ever talked in, well," she blinked. "Ever." Harry gave her that small, almost-not-there smile that she was getting used to seeing. "I'll show you to your room, okay?" she announced, and they climbed out of the truck. Harry glanced at it, observing and taking in details; Bella smiled at him.

"It's not much to look at," she said, picking up his backpack. "But it runs, and it's mine, so it's perfect." Harry looked at her, hesitantly.

"I like old things," he said softly. "They're much simpler and more reliable." Bella nodded, taking his hand and tugging. He grabbed his suitcase's lever and silently followed her. She led him on a tour of the house, pointing out rooms and pictures, and chatting about this and that. Harry merely listened, taking it all in.

"This is your room," she announced, opening the door to the guest room. Charlie and her had cleaned it thoroughly, though it still smelled faintly of mothballs. Harry looked around, leaning his suitcase against the wall. Bella set his pack beside it, and fidgeted nervously. "It's not much, and kind of small, and smelly, but-" Harry interrupted, something he hadn't done once before.

"It's perfect," he murmured, turning a sweet smile on her, which was wider and warmer, lighting up his eyes. Bella was immediately hit with the desire to make him smile like that more often. It made her pretty cousin beautiful, even with the nasty bruises. She smiled back, and felt happiness bubble up inside her without knowing why. She helped him unpack, watching as he neatly and efficiently folded and sorted his clothes into the small brown dresser, hung things in his tiny closet, and placed his backpack beside the chair of his old, creaky desk. The dark green comforter of his bed was straightened and smoothed, his pillows neatly fluffed and rearranged, and his lamp turned slightly so that the switch was pointed towards the bed. Then he sat in the desk chair and just looked around, expression serene and pleased. Bella smiled at him warmly.

"Want to help me make dinner?" She asked; his face immediately brightened.

"I love cooking," he said softly; she smiled and once more took his hand, now out of absentminded habit.

"Charlie will be home in an hour," she told the boy cheerfully. "What would you like to make?" He bit his lip, nibbling it as he thought. Bella thought he looked adorable.

"Lasagna?" he asked softly; Bella pursed her lips, then nodded.

"I've never made it before," she told him, "but I can learn! And I can run to the store to get things that you need. Should we have anything with it?" He tilted his head.

"Corn would be good," he said as they entered the kitchen. Immediately, he set to getting things ready, cleaning dishes efficiently and quickly. Bella got a can of sweet corn and the can opener. Harry snatched up a pen and a piece of paper, and began to scribble down a list of things he'd need.

"If you can't find some of this," he said softly, "or if it's too expensive, we can improvise." Bella nodded and pulled on her coat, grabbed her wallet, and was out the door and in her truck, driving to the store. Harry set about, opening the can of corn and dumping it into a pot after pouring out most of the liquid in the can, adding a scoop of butter in. He stirred it carefully, watching as the butter melted. He tossed in a bit of pepper and some salt, and stirred. Fifteen minutes later, Bella returned with three bags of food, everything from the list. Harry set her to stirring the corn for a few minutes while he got everything ready. When he was done, he set the corn on simmer and showed Bella how to put the pasta noodles into the boiling water.

**TWO**

An hour and a half later, Charlie walked in with a twelve-pack of beer, and nearly drooled as the smell of food slammed into him and soft laughter filtered in from the kitchen.

"Bella?" he called; she poked her head out of the kitchen, a smudge of red sauce on her eyebrow, of all places. She grinned at him, brown eyes sparkling brightly.

"Hey, Charlie!" She greeted happily. "It's almost done, so go ahead and wait in the living room. Me and Harry will get you when it's ready. Oh!" She blinked as Billy Black wheeled in, Jacob standing behind him. "Hi Billy! Hi Jacob! You staying to eat? We went a bit overboard," she said teasingly, glancing over her shoulder. A soft, male voice laughed beautifully.

"Sorry," a musical voice called sweetly, accent adding an interesting lilt to his words. Bella grinned; Billy sniffed the air eagerly.

"Definitely staying, then," he announced; Jacob snorted, amused, but nodded eagerly, stomach rumbling. Bella beamed at them, face lighting up beautifully. It was the happiest Charlie had seen his daughter in a long while. She'd gotten closer to it when she'd started dating that Cullen boy, but not this happy. He was suddenly; insanely glad he'd agreed to take his nephew in. Bella disappeared into the kitchen, and Jacob wheeled Billy over to sit beside Charlie's chair. The Chief handed his old friend a beer, opening one himself as he sat. Jacob moved towards the kitchen, sniffing, sighing happily at the aromas.

"Careful, Bella," the musical voice from before warned. "The pan is hot." A small boy with black hair and pale skin stood, his back to the doorway, watching as Bella carefully carried a pan of cheesy lasagna to the table and set it down. Beside it was another pan, thinner with less cheese, and a pot of corn. Jacob took a slow, deep breath, sighing happily. Then he knocked on the doorframe, so he wouldn't startle them.

The boy turned, and froze, blinking up at Jacob. Way, way up. He stared, shocked, gorgeous green eyes huge with disbelief.

"Bloody hell!" He exclaimed. "What do they _feed_ you Americans? Steroids?" Jacob burst out laughing, and Bella giggled in the background. Harry put his hands on his hips, frowning up at him. "I felt bleeding short back home, but come over here and feel like a bloody midget! I demand you shrink," he ordered, "right now." He crossed his arms and tapped his foot, waiting. Jacob and Bella were nearly in stitches, they were laughing so hard. A small smile lifted the boys pink mouth, before he firmed it into a stern expression.

"Do not laugh at me!" He said, looking indignant though his eyes were filled with shy mirth. "I demand you stop laughing! Stop that! No food for you!" he threatened, shaking a finger at Jacob, then at Bella. "Or you! Naughty children," he sniffed, nose in the air and acting prim. Jacob was howling with laughter, hands on his knees and eyes starting to tear up. Bella was collapsed against the fridge, giggling so hard she was gasping for breath. Charlie came in, Billy right behind him.

"What on Earth is going on in here?" he asked, bewildered; Harry gave him an absolutely serious expression.

"Drugs," he said promptly, pointing at the laughing teens. "These delinquents have obviously partaken in illegal paraphernalia, Chief Swan, and in the house of a man of the law no less!" He frowned at the laughing teens disapprovingly, wagging his finger. "For shame!" Charlie snorted and covered his mouth; Billy snickered. Harry frowned at them. "What is the _matter_ with you Americans? What is so bloody funny?" Bella gasped for breath, giggling still.

"It's," she gasped, "it's th-the acc-accent!" She choked out, laughing; Harry looked offended.

"That's not polite at all!" He cried, pouting, before a smile twitched his lips and a giggle escaped. Instantly, his eyes went wide and he clapped a hand over his mouth. "Oh no! It's contagious!" He cried, looking properly horrified, before cracking up with the others. When the laughter had wound down to a few snickers, Harry and Bella began to dish out the food.

"The smaller one I made myself," Bella said proudly. "Harry taught me how. Of course," she added, taking a mouthful of Harry's lasagna and sighing blissfully. "It's not _nearly_ as good as the one _he _made." Harry blushed and ducked his head shyly. Jacob was on his third helping, and merely grunted, digging into the food eagerly. Harry was on his first, and was eating slowly, cradling the plate close and savoring every bite. He'd eaten his corn first.

"So, Harry," Billy spoke up, full from his two large slices of lasagna and corn, leaning back in his wheelchair. "Are you excited about school?" Harry glanced over at him.

"Yes, Billy," he replied simply, smiling slightly. He'd made the mistake of calling him Mr. Black earlier in the meal, and had been accused of making him feel old. As it was, he somehow managed to sound _more_ formal, calling him Billy. It drove the older man nuts and had Charlie snickering.

"What classes are you taking?" Jacob asked curiously; Harry nibbled his lip, thinking.

"Honors English one, Algebra one, World History, Physical Science, Art, Physical Education, and Spanish." He blinked, then nodded. "My ELO class is Art, which is good. I like art," he murmured shyly, ducking his head. Jacob blinked.

"You're a _freshman_?" He asked, bewildered; Harry nodded. "You're older then I thought." Harry gave him a narrow-eyed look.

"That was a jab at my petite form!" He accused. "I may look like I'm eleven but I could still kick your bloody arse from here to England and back, Big Boy!" He snarked, scowling and looking affronted. Jacob smirked.

"Someone has height issues," he taunted playfully; Harry smirked.

"At least I'm not over-compensating for my, ah, _short_ comings, eh?" He mocked; Jacob blinked, not getting it. Billy and Charlie choked, snickering, and the tall boy glared at them.

"What?" He demanded. Charlie leaned over and whispered in his ear. Jacob's eyes grew wide. "Oh… Oh!" he glowered at Harry, who was smiling innocently up at him. "Not cool, Short-Stack, not cool at all." Harry tilted his head cutely, giving him huge, cocker spaniel-worthy, puppy-dog-eyes. Jacob winced and looked away, coughing to clear his throat. "I loose," he told the adults simply. "He's got weapons of uber strength to use against me, and a British vocabulary." Billy patted his son's broad shoulder with a calm nod.

"The Britishness is the fulcrum of his power," he assured his son; Harry turned those puppy-dog-eyes on the older man, who blinked, startled, then looked at Charlie. "You're doomed," he told his friend, who sighed.

"Doomed," he agreed; Bella looked at the three men, then turn to Harry with an eager expression.

"Teach me, Oh Wise One Of Epic Puppy-Dog-Eye Proportions, teach me!" She begged; Harry nodded solemnly.

"Very well, grasshopper, very well," he said; Charlie groaned as they burst into giggles.

"Totally doomed," he muttered, morose. Everyone laughed, and he smiled. Billy and Jacob said goodbye ten minutes later, taking home half of the remaining lasagna at Harry's insistence, declaring that Billy needed more food since Jacob seemed to eat it all and turn it into muscle. That earned him a grin and a swat from Jacob, which he dodged with surprising ease.

They left after that, and Harry found himself cuddling next to Bella on the couch, Charlie in his chair, and watching a show called Criminal Minds. He really liked Morgan and Reid, as well as Garcia. He thought their interactions were fun and amusing. As he watched it, though, Jetlag caught him, the evil thing, and he fell asleep. Charlie, when the show was over, gently carried him upstairs and kissed his head, covering him up with his blanket and setting the small alarm next to the bed for six. He kissed Bella goodnight and went to bed himself, a smile on his face.

He was definitely glad he'd taken his nephew in.

**THREE**

When Bella and Charlie got up at six, it was to the delicious smell of cooking food and coffee. They both got dressed and stumbled downstairs fifteen minutes later, half-asleep and hungry. Harry was dressed and ready to leave, his bag beside one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He was humming softly as the small radio on the shelf played country music at pitch that was barely above a whisper. He looked up, green eyes bright and shy before he went back to cooking, flipping the pancake that was cooking in the pan. Several more were already on a plate and waiting, with a plate of perfectly cooked bacon and sausages.

"I thought you'd both like a hot breakfast," he said shyly; they both eagerly dug in, Charlie drinking a cup of coffee as he ate. They were both wide awake by the time they finished, and Harry sat down with two pancakes, three pieces of bacon, and two sausages. He drizzled them all with syrup and neatly ate them, faster then the Swans had thought possible with such neatness. He didn't get a single drop of syrup on his clothes or the table, either.

"How long have you been up, Harry?" Bella asked, curious; Harry took a drink of his own cup of coffee, black with only a little sugar.

"Since four-thirty," he told her. "I cleaned the dishes, the kitchen, and the living room. Took out the trash, took the clothes out of the dryer, folded them and hung up the clean towels in the bathroom." He didn't so much as twitch as he said it, even though Bella and Charlie were staring at him, mouths open, shocked. "Your clean clothes are in separate baskets to the right of your doors," Harry added absently, adding another spoonful of sugar to his coffee and stirring it in idly.

"You didn't have to do that," Charlie finally managed; Harry blinked, giving him a bizarre look.

"I like cleaning," he said simply. "And besides, I don't do well with boredness," he admitted with a sheepish look. "I tend to go looking for trouble when bored, and usually find it." He gave them both a serious look. "If you don't want me to do anything to your rooms, tell me now," he told them. "Or else you might come home and find everything organized in a way you aren't used to." Bella blinked slowly, then looked at her dad. Charlie took a gulp f his coffee and sighed.

"Nope," he finally said; Bella shook her head.

"Clean away at it," she told him; he smiled beautifully.

"Excellent," he declared. He took the empty plates and promptly washed and dried them, putting them back into the cupboards. Charlie left for work, and Bella darted upstairs to get her bag. Then the two teens were off to Forks High School.

Bella held her younger cousin's hand on a whim, and he squeezed it gently, nervously, as they pulled into the school parking lot. Parking, Bella hopped out, bag over her shoulder; Harry got out as well, his green backpack looking large and heavy on his back. He didn't even twitch at the weight, but was quickly on Bella's side of the car, head ducked and eyes locked on his shoes, hand wrapped tightly around hers. She smiled gently down at him and led him to the front office, noticing that the Cullens weren't in yet, and the parking lot was half empty. They were early, she realized with bemusement. She usually got here about ten minutes before the bell rang.

Entering the office, she waited as the secretary looked for Harry's sign-sheet and schedule, staring at him as much as she could. Harry had hid himself slightly behind his cousin, black hair blocking most of his face. Bella handed him his papers, and gently led him to his assigned locker, showing him how to open the lock. He opted to just carry everything with him, clutching the strap of his pack tightly. Bella walked him to his first class before the bell rang, and he hugged her tightly, fearfully, without any embarrassment. She hugged him back and kissed his forehead on a whim.

"You'll be perfectly fine, Harry," she assured him, smiling. "My next class is next to yours, so I'll walk you to that one as well, okay? We'll meet by the water fountain, okay?" He nodded and reluctantly slipped into the math classroom, handing the teacher, Mr. Eriks, his sign-in sheet. The teacher nodded and gave him a seat in the middle. Harry sat and pulled out his math book and calculator, setting them to one side. He pulled out a blue notebook and a sharpened pencil, fiddling with it nervously.

The class slowly filled up, last-minute students rushing in seconds before the tardy bell. Everyone glanced at him, and Harry ducked down a little in his seat, never lifting his head. Mr. Eriks introduced him without asking him to stand and talk, then turned and started scribbling down notes and problems. Harry wrote them all neatly in his notebook, peering at the board through his hair. When he was finished, he turned to the page in his book their homework was on, and efficiently had it all finished before the bell rang. Waiting for class to end, he drew on a blank page in his decided "Math" notebook, and neatly drew a lily, it's stem long and realistic. Around the edges of the paper, he drew leafy vines, curling and stretching out towards the lily. He finished as the bell rang, and stood, moving to the front of the room quickly after putting his things away. Mr. Eriks signed his sheet and he left. A couple of kids started to talk to him, but he moved too quickly.

He met Bella at the drinking fountain, as planned. He grabbed her hand, holding onto it tightly as he pressed close, shaking slightly. He didn't like this many people looking at him.

"How you holding up, kiddo?" she asked gently as she led him towards Honors English. Harry grimaced slightly, and she smiled. "Attention getting to you, huh?" Harry nodded; she let go of his hand to wrap an arm around his shoulder in a gentle hug, kissing his head. "Same way when I first got here a few months ago," she assured him. "I still get treated like a sideshow every once in a while. You get used to it after a while." She hugged him again and left him at the door. Harry sighed and slipped inside, handing Mrs. Douglass his papers. She gave him a narrow-eyed glance, taking in his jeans, gray shirt, and brown windbreaker, before stabbing one talon-like finger at the chair directly in front of her. Harry sat without complaint, pulling out his English things and a red notebook and the same pencil, which he sharpened in a hand-held sharpener. A girl with blond hair and an eager smile bounced over to the seat next to him.

"Hi!" she said, voice high and bubbly. "My name's Katie! My big brother Mike knows Bella. Are you her brother?" Katie demanded curiously, all but bouncing. Harry gave her a wary look through his hair, not lifting his head.

"I'm her cousin," he told her, voice soft and quiet; she squealed and he winced.

"You're British!" She cried loudly; he shrugged silently. "Oh my goodness! Say something British, please, please, please!" She looked at him so eagerly; Harry sighed.

"Ta, luv," he said; she clapped her hands, giggling madly. Harry prayed for class to be over already.

"So why are you living with Chief Swan, Harry?" She asked; Harry didn't bother wondering how she knew his name.

"Personal reasons," he replied simply. She pouted.

"Aw, come on! You can tell me," she tried, leaning closer. He leaned away, uncomfortable, and she huffed when he didn't say anything. "Fine, be mean," she said stiffly. "I'll find out eventually, you know." Harry ignored her and opened his notebook, drawing a picture of his cousin smiling with him right beside her, her arm thrown around his shoulders and squeezing him close. He got halfway done when the tardy bell rang and he had to stop, closing the notebook silently. Mrs. Douglass glared hawkishly around the classroom, then sniffed.

"We have a new student," she said stiffly. "Stand and introduce yourself, Mr. Potter," she ordered; Harry, terrified, stood slowly and turned, facing the class.

"My name," he said softly, "is Harry Potter." He started to sit down when the teacher glared at him.

"Lift your head!" She barked. "And don't mumble, it's rude." Harry found himself lifting his head and giving her the full impact of his bright green eyes, glaring. Then he looked at the class. Several people gasped at the sight of his bruised and swollen face, but he ignored it, lips thin in irritation.

"My _name_," he said stiffly, loudly. "Is _Harry_ _Potter_." his eyes glared at the teacher as he turned promptly and sat down again, body stiff, ducking his head again so his hair covered his face. Mrs. Douglass scowled at him, but turned and started writing things on the board. Harry opened to the next clean page in his English Notebook and silently wrote them down, as well as the assignment, which was to write a short story regarding a favorite subject. It had to be fiction, and have at least seven hundred words. Harry, finished with that, turned back to his drawing. Finishing, he signed it _To Bella, Love Harry_ and gently tore it out. He slipped it into his pocket after carefully folding it. He planned to put it on her pillow when he cleaned her room after school. When the bell rang, he got his paper signed, and was dragged from the room by Katie, who chattered on about how great the town was and such. Harry zoned out, digging his feet in until she stopped.

"I have to wait for Bella," he told her softly, head ducked. She shrugged and stayed by him, chattering and bouncing in place, holding his limp hand happily. Harry let her, eyes peering through his hair at his cousins Biology class, waiting. Soon, kids were piling out of the classroom. A handsome blonde boy with blue eyes walked out and Katie squealed, making Harry flinch slightly, and bounced, waving.

"Mike!" She cried at the blond. "Mike! Come meet Harry! He's my new best friend!" Mike smiled slightly and came over while Harry gave the taller blonde girl a look from the corner of his eye. _I never agreed to that_, he thought, then gave a mental sigh. _Oh well. Have to socialize some how. _He looked at his hand for a moment, not noticing his cousin exiting the room hand-in-hand with someone. _I think I've lost all feeling in my fingers._ Experimentally, he twitched his pinky. _Nope, just numb then. Good, I need that hand for cleaning. And if I break my right hand…_

Harry flinched sharply when a hand suddenly entered his line of vision, head snapping back to stare, wide-eyed, up at Mike, Katie's brother, who was smiling at him with a warning in his eyes. That if-you-hurt-my-sister-I'll-dismember-you-and-they'll-never-find-the-body type of gleam that made Harry think of mobsters, for some reason.

"Mike Newton," the blonde boy greeted. Harry warily took his hand.

"Harry Potter," he managed; Katie bounced again, grinning.

"He's Bella's cousin! From Britain!" Harry mentally sighed when Mike let go of his hand, flexing the sore limb. _I don't know why he had to squeeze it so damn hard_, he mentally groused, then looked around. Bella was standing a little ways away, next to a tall, handsome boy who had tawny hair and amber eyes, and a rather nice facial structure. Harry caught every line, mentally drawing it, and decided that he complimented his cousin very nicely. Slipping his hand carefully out of Katie's grip, he quickly moved to his cousin, cuddling into her side. She smiled and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, kissing his forehead.

"I see you made a friend," she teased; Harry peered up at her.

"She wouldn't take no as an answer," he muttered, reaching into his pocket. He hesitated, then handed her it. Curious, Bella let go of the boy's hand and lifted her arm off of Harry's shoulder to unfold it. When she did, she gasped slightly, eyes wide.

"Oh, wow," she whispered; Harry shifted on his feet.

"I got bored," he said uncertainly. _Does she like it? I messed up on the fabric folds, I know I did. Oh, damn, I hope she likes it…_ Bella wrapping him in a hug had him tensing, frozen as fear flickered through him, before he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. _She's not Vernon or Petunia, or Dudley_, he scolded himself firmly. _She's not going to hurt you. She's not like that!_ Flashes of the times when his relatives had been nice to him, only to hurt him ten-times worse flashed through his mind, as if taunting him. He mentally flinched. _That was different! _They _were different!_ Bella seemed to realize that she'd accidentally caused a minor panic attack and quickly let her trembling cousin go. But it was too late.

"Harry?" she asked softly, kneeling down, and he looked at her with wide, glazed green eyes, flashbacks flooding him. His uncle calling him a freak and beating him; his Aunt Petunia beating him over the head with a frying pan, sneering. Ripper chasing him up the tree; Dudley pushing him into a puddle. His uncle squeezing his arm hard enough that he heard the bones break. His aunt slamming the car trunk on his fingers, breaking them viciously. His uncle whipping him. His cousin playing Harry Hunting with several of his friends. His aunt throwing frying bacon grease on his bare back when he burnt the bacon. His uncle slipping into his cupboard at night to-

"Harry!" Bella said sharply, pale with fear, clutching his face and staring into his eyes. "You need to breath, okay? Slowly, easy, breath, okay?

"I'll go and get the nurse," Mike said as Katie stood nearby, blue eyes wide and scared. Harry shuddered, tears sliding down his face as he stared into his cousin's eyes.

"Hurts," he whispered softly; she nodded, fingers rubbing his temples gently as he gasped for breath.

"Stay focused on me, sweetie," she whispered, pale and scared. "You have to focus, okay? My voice, my face, my touch, okay? Hear me, see me, feel me, okay, Harry?" The boy nodded weakly, eyes locked on hers. His breathing had started to even out when the nurse and principle came rushing down the hallway with a wheelchair. Harry's shivering and trembling continued at a smaller degree as Bella helped him into the chair and escorted him to the nurses office, holding his hand the entire time, murmuring and talking to him softly, soothingly. Edward followed silently, staying a little ways away from them both, amber eyes a few shades darker then they had been before.


End file.
